On the Sideline
by veredgf
Summary: When Diana Fowley invites Mulder to join her on an X-File, it is up to Scully to figure out Diana's true motive, but can she do this while her mind is clouded with emotional turmoil? Set during early season six.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:  
There is a long teaser to the story that I was having issues with. I didn't know if people will have the patience to read a teaser of this length, but the more I thought about cutting it short, the worse I felt about it. I want the story to have depth and this means putting an effort in to its development. Since I know most of you read pretty fast, please don't skip the teaser or the story because of it. Mulder and Scully do appear in this chapter and I am going to make them work hard in this story *grin*._

 _Story takes place during Season Six: The dark era of A.D. Alvin Kersh._

* * *

 **"On The Sideline"**

Chapter One

 **Justville, NY (South of Binghamton)**

Matt Goldfarb was bored. Being thirteen years old and not having any of your close friends around during summer sucked big time. It was days like these that made him hate his life and hate his mom. She was never around because she had to work all day long. When she did come home she was always tired. Whenever he approached her, she'd always apologize that she wasn't up to listening to him even though she loved him very much and all.

The more she apologized, the more he hated her and right at that very moment he believed he hated her the most. Five days ago his two best friends boarded a plane to Israel for summer camp. This was the camp the three of them had been speaking of for the past year. It was Bar Mitzvah year and this was supposed to be his first time away from home. He was supposed to be celebrating his coming of age and getting to know new experiences but instead his friends left and here he was, still stuck in this tiny little hole of a town but this time he was all alone; no friends to talk to, no mom to confide in, just him and a few fist-sized rocks. One of these rocks was now being trained on an unsuspecting tabby cat that was lazily padding along the road.

He thought of his mom and his anger whirled into a storm. He pulled his arm back and his brow furrowed as his focus centered on the cat's mid-section. His concentration deepened and his tongue found its way between his lips, his neck tensed and he pushed his arm forward and released the stone.

He followed it with his eyes and as the stone progressed he could tell his aim was off. The propelled object hit the gravel with a muffled thud. The cat shot out with a shocked miao, quickly disappearing from Matt's sight, as it figured out what's best for it.

Matt snorted. That was _just_ perfect. It just fit in so well with his foul mood.

He got up and gave the remaining pile of rocks a hefty kick. The stones spread all over and the ground stirred into life as dust flew about Matt and his surroundings. "Fuck you!" he cried out and spat at the twirling sand. "Fuck all of you!"

He trudged down the road listlessly. He would have gone home but it wasn't as if there was much he could do there, either. His mom sold their TV and VCR over a year ago. All he had left were a stack of VHS tapes staring at him as if sneering and enhancing the emptiness of their living room. While his friends all sported a fancy new Discman, he was stuck with an ancient tape recorder. The kind you couldn't take out and show off without finding yourself the laughing stock of the entire school. If that wasn't enough, it now had one of his favorite tapes tangled within it. His best mate, Josh, promised to get it fixed for him but he never got around to it and now he was far away and it will be another two months before he'd see him.

So he just kept on plodding down the road aimlessly, kicking up dust with each step he took, feeling sorry for himself. How was he going to survive this dreaded summer? He'd tried finding a temporary job but most positions weren't suitable for his age, and those that were had already been filled in. He'd gone to the library only to find out that the old lady who'd been running the place had fallen ill and there was nobody available to replace her. He couldn't afford to buy any new books, so now he had to make do with whatever he'd already read and he didn't feel like it. It was just so unfair. He felt like the world was out to get him, or at least that it was determined to make his summer holiday suck big time.

As he continued his stroll he realized he was hearing the sound of footsteps echoing his own. He stopped in his tracks and his ears sort of perked. It wasn't his imagination playing tricks on his mind. Indeed, there was somebody else treading this sorry part of town in mid-summer. A tiny beam played along his freckled face. He didn't care who it was. Another person meant some sort of action. Be it good or bad, he wanted in on it and if there was one thing he was _very_ good at, it was pushing his nose into everybody else's business.

He resumed his stride but he made sure his pace was deliberately sluggish. He'd dawdle every few steps. Crouch to his knees to ogle a rock or he'd peer above a neighboring fence. Gradually he heard the footsteps closing in on him. Now he knew there was more than one pair of feet striding along the road behind him and that made him jollier.

As the couple got near, Matt listened intently and sure enough he was now able to pick on their conversation. The voices he heard made his heart leap. The two people behind him were teenagers. In fact, both went to his school. There was the slight matter of the age difference between them, but Matt knew he'd be able to overcome that minor detail.

Finally he felt the timing was just right. He came to a full stop and turned around to face the two boys approaching him.

David Leibowitz, a lanky boy with an impressive curly red-brown mane gave him a sneer. "Lookie here. If it isn't Matt 'the leftover' Goldfarb."

Ben Sokolov, his shorter and sturdier partner, joined David as he jeered. "The Leftover! That's a good one, Dave. I think I might store it for future reference."

Matt wasn't too perplexed by the older boys' attempts to taunt him. He was nicknamed 'Matt the Elephant' by his peers as he was known amongst them for his thick skin. It would take much more to break his spirit and right now the simple attention the boys were lavishing unto him was actually having the opposite effect. He was delighted to have some action and the dumber older boys were clueless. As they continued verbally patting each other's backs, assuming they had the upper hand in the situation, Matt kept a casual gaze, only partially trained on the two boys. He was quite pleased with what he saw. Both David and Ben had pellet rifles slung across their chest and Ben had a heavy duty pouch strapped to his waste which Matt assumed had a nice stack of pellets in it. _Yes!_ Finally he was going to see some action. Maybe he would even be able to participate.

"Where you going?" Matt interjected, completely ignoring the supposedly mature boys' futile attempts to humiliate him.

The fifteen year olds weren't too happy with Matt's indifference. They broke their sniggering parade and tried to stare Matt down.

"What's it to you, midget?" David spat.

"Yeah! What's it to you?" Ben echoed his buddy, clearly being the weaker link of the two.

Matt gave them a tiny meaningful smile. "To me? It's nothing to me, but I'm sure it's gonna interest Sargent Dan down at the precinct. Damn sure of it." As the last word left his mouth, Matt turned around and made an attempt to walk away from the scene.

As soon as he took his first step, the expected hand landed on his shoulder in an attempt to prevent his movement. Matt smacked his lips with extreme pleasure. His plan was working like a charm. Using a very low tone, he calmly spoke. "I wouldn't do _that_ if I were you."

"Ben, take your paw off of him," Dave let out, his tone was now one notch higher than before.

As expected, Ben refused to listen. "You gonna let this little shit walk away?!"

"This little shit broke Sam's hand last year," Dave half whispered. "He's got a black belt in martial arts. Just let him go."

"Yeah, Benny," Matt jeered, "why don't ya let the midget go, now, would ya?"

Matt felt as Ben hurriedly removed his grip. He chuckled. It was Josh's dad who'd trained him. He wanted to make sure the three nerdy friends would be able to stand up for themselves. He knew how things could be for kids such as his son and his friends and he wanted to give them an advantage. Matt knew he'd always be grateful to him. Martial arts taught him a lot more than just self-defense. It taught him discipline and combined with his ability to stay calm in most situations, he earned his black belt a lot sooner than his two best friends.

"Dave, he's gonna snitch on us if we don't do something about it," Benny lamented.

"There's nothing I can do about it," David shot back at Ben.

 _Bingo!_ Matt smiled as he slowly turned to face the older boys. "Oh, but there _is_ something you can do about it, Dave," Matt sing-sang mockingly. "You can invite me to your shooting fest."

Ben frowned at Matt with obvious disgruntlement. "You're gonna cramp our style, midget."

Matt chuckled. "Fine then. It's been nice talkin' to ya. I'm kinda bored. Guess I'll go say Hi to Sargent Dan Mathews at the precinct. Maybe he'll find me something to do."

"OK, OK, you can come with us," Dave caved in.

Matt smirked. "Dave, buddy. You are just too good to me."

Dave threw Matt a peeved glare. "Come on," he motioned half-heartedly with his hand.

His mood completely turned around, Matt scooted behind the older boys. "So, where we goin'?"

"Over to Hickory Woods," Dave told him.

"And what we gonna do there?" Matt milked the older boy being as he wasn't very forthcoming with information.

" _We_ will be shooting some squirrels. As for _you_? Fucked if I know." Benny snickered.

 _We'll see about that_ , Matt told the older boy in his mind, and smiled to himself.

The odd threesome kept a steady pace as they headed west towards the forest on the outskirts of town known as Hickory Woods. The two older boys conversed amongst themselves, keeping their voices low and making sure Matt was excluded from their discussion. Matt himself couldn't give a crap about their verbal exchanges. He had no doubt in his mind that most of it was BS and idle chit chat, typical of teens of that age. His spirits were elated. Today had taken a turn for the better. Finally he had something to look forward to.

Soon the boys were trudging through the forest, their feet making crunching sounds as they trampled on dried up leaves. Most of the trees were sporting impressive manes of green and Matt took in the cool air, enjoying the various scents the forest bestowed upon him. Usually, he avoided Hickory Woods. There had been some strange rumors about the place. Mostly about animals going missing never to be found again, but also about an old lady who'd gotten lost a couple of months ago. It was said that she was last seen entering the forest. She'd been declared missing a short while after the incident but Matt found it odd that no search party was ever dispatched. It was as if nobody cared that she'd gone.

He sighed inwardly, stopped at his tracks and stared at the narrow gravel path that meandered through the trees, an ominous sensation sent chills through his spine.

The older boys continued journeying further into the forest but they soon realized they were missing their unwanted counterpart. They halted their stride and both turned around.

"What's the matter? Chickening out?" Ben sniggered.

As if on cue, Dave flapped his arms and cackled poultry-style.

Both older boys burst in laughter and continued walking back and forth like a pair of dumb birds.

Matt scoffed. _Dickheads. Stupid fucking twits._ He heaved a deep breath, stared long into the heavily shaded portion of Hickory Woods and shook himself as if he were trying to rid himself of the ill-boding vibe he was getting from the place. He gulped. Every nerve in his body was telling him to turn around, yet his pride wouldn't listen. He kicked the ground with his right shoe and proceeded forward. As he did so, he passed between the still quacking boys, shoving Benny with his body as he trudged by him.

"Hey!" Ben whined. "Watch it, butthead!"

Matt ignored him and continued walking, but he gradually slowed down his pace and the older teens soon caught up with him.

Despite it being midday, the towering fleshy trees prevented most of the sun's access and the forest took on a sickly dim appearance. What added to the uneasy feeling was the fact that as they moved further in, the forest assumed an eerie quietness. It was almost as if there was a sound barrier between the town and the woods. It was clear to Matt that both Dave and Ben were also feeling this as the usually chatty boys ceased their endless senseless quipping the deeper they headed into the wooden abyss. The glum silence served as enhancement for Matt's heartbeat which he noted was on a steady rise.

He was beginning to have serious second thoughts, but if he turned back now, he knew he'd never be able to walk down the school hallways without being harassed. _Suck it up_ , he ordered himself and swallowed hard. He just hoped that Dave and Benny would decide on a shooting location so they could get it over with and leave this creepy place.

He knew he should ask them when they were planning to get along with their prospective affairs, but they'd just use this to pester him some more so he kept his quiet. Luckily, it was Benny who opened his mouth instead.

"Dave, d'you see any squirrels 'round here?"

Matt refrained from chuckling at the obvious nervousness he conceived from Ben's shaky voice.

"It's a fuckin' forest dude. We will find the shitty little animals pretty darn soon," Dave retorted but it was quite clear that he was not too self-assured.

 _Great_ , Matt sighed. He sure knew how to pick'em. He'd been so goddamn bored; he'd chosen to follow two of the dumbest dudes he'd ever known. _Good thinking, Matt_. _NOT_.

The path they were following had become so narrow; they now had to walk convoy-style with Dave leading the group and Matt in the rear. Thick shrubbery encroached upon their already-cramped walkway, hindering their traverse the further they travelled. It was pretty obvious not too many frequented this section of Hickory Woods and Matt wondered when Dave would quit leading them into nowhere.

Then he abruptly came to a standstill. It was so sudden that Matt was inches from crashing into Benny's rifle. He had to pull back fast and he found himself grabbing the first thing he could and it just so happened to be dogwood branches. He grabbed the shrub on both sides of the path but it wasn't strong enough to support his weight and he found himself falling backwards, till he landed on his butt.

At the sound of the loud thud, Ben looked behind him and burst out in silly guffaws.

"Shut the fuck up, Benny!" Dave yelled out, clearly unaware of the show he'd just missed out on.

Matt sent Benny a menacing glower and the older boy's horsy grin vanished, a frightened expression taking its place.

The younger boy pushed himself off the ground, tossing shredded dogwood leaves in the process. Then he tried to peer behind Benny in an attempt to figure out what had gotten in their way. "What's goin' on?" he called out to Dave against his better judgment.

Of course Dave's expected rebuttal came flying right back at him. "Shuttup butthead!"

"Sod off dumbass!" Matt shot back, feeling weary of the drivel Dave had been feeding him. "You know what _I_ think?"

"Nobody cares what _you_ think, slime ball!" Ben spat at him.

Matt couldn't care less. He'd just about had enough of the dumb-duo's antics. " _I_ think you two are full of crap and that you've never gone here to shoot at anything before today and right now we'd be lucky if we found a fuckin' ant to tread on, if you ask me!"

"No-bo-dy _asked_ you!" Dave hollered back at him, stressing every syllable.

"Yeah! If you don't like what we're doin', feel free to go back home to your mommy." Ben sniggered scornfully.

In all truth that was exactly what his heart was telling him to do, but of course, there was no way he was going to let those two get the upper hand. All he did in response was present a peeved scowl to Ben.

Ben offered him a satisfied sneer, feeling very pleased with himself; then he turned back to Dave. "I think the little motherfucker will keep his mouth shut from now on."

"Benny, _you_ are _driving_ me crazy with your bitchin'. Why don't _you_ shuttup as well, eh? I'm trying to figure out how we gonna get past this fuckin' ditch."

Finally some light was shed on the mystery of their unexplained pause mid-trip. If only they didn't have to rely on the 'amazing' thinking power of David Leibowitz. Matt rolled his eyes.

"Go back the two of you! Come on, move it!" Dave ordered.

What now? Matt wondered. Had Dave finally come to his senses? Was he turning them around?

"I need some space so I can run and make a jump to pass this ditch." Dave explained.

 _But of course_ , Matt's crest fell. He should have known better than to actually believe Dave had any common sense in him.

As ordered both Matt and Benny shuffled back along the measly forest lane until Dave was satisfied with the length of track that was now available for his sprint. Dave walked back towards the two boys; then he set himself for the run, his back partially hunched like an Olympic Long Jumper. He heaved a deep breath and his legs sprang into action, taking giant strides as he dashed with impressive speed. About a foot before the ditch's ledge, Dave jumped forward, his legs stretched out to their maximum. A fraction of a second later and both boys could hear a loud crashing sound accompanied with a gritty yelp.

"Oh Fuck!" Benny blurted and rushed to the ditch's rim to find out Dave's fate. Matt trudged slowly behind him. As he neared the trench he could hear Dave's triumphant cheer. _So it's one/nil to Dave_ , Matt gauged.

He reached Benny and the older teen looked back at him and Matt held himself from sniggering at Benny's perplexed expression. _So who's the big boy now?_ He wondered inwardly.

"It's your turn," Benny mumbled then he grabbed Matt by the arm and pulled him close to the ledge.

As Matt huddled beside Ben in the tiny space between the shrubs he took in the size of the gap he had to cross. The ditch was more than three feet deep and maybe nine or so wide. He couldn't gauge the exact depth as it had dark colored water flowing through it. Yellow leaves floated atop the streaming 'water' at a leisurely pace. Matt followed them with his eyes and noted the stream appeared to narrow further down but the thick bushes prevented him from reaching the easier crossing.

Matt felt his face slacken as he realized he'd gotten himself into a 'brilliant' situation. Dave, with his splendid drawn out legs had to work hard to manage this jump and even Benny, with his puny brain, figured out he was in deep shit and now he was using Matt to buy him some time. But _he_ was the one who had this problem shoved right up his ass, and he knew that no matter how he'd play it, he was going to lose.

Logically, he knew he should back out but his pride stepped up and made the decision for him. "Fine," he told Benny. "Get out of my way!"

The older boy gawked at him, his expression a mixture of shock and awe.

"You gonna move your butt?" Matt asked impatiently.

"You're fuckin' crazy, Goldfarb!" Benny responded as he hurried back along the path. "You're never gonna make it."

Matt knew he was right but he chose to keep quiet. Once they'd reached the spot from which Dave took his sprint, both boys got into position; Benny assumed the spectator's post while Matt prepared for the jump. There wasn't much point in stalling, so he decided to just hope for the best. He heaved a deep breath and forced his legs to run as fast as they could. He quickly gained speed as he zoomed in on the narrow ledge.

This was it. No turning back. He reached the lip of the trench and put all his might into his leap. For a fraction of a second he was flying in the air but then gravity took over and the inevitable happened. He was falling down, a mixture of green and brown filling his eyes as he rushed into the bottomless dark liquid that filled the trench. His arms flailed as he attempted to grab whatever he could but all they hit was the soft gravel sides of the trench. The muddy ground broke to bits in his hands as gravity pulled him down.

And then came the splash.

Unable to truly break his fall, he found himself completely immersed in the dark water that ebbed through the trench. Even his face wasn't saved from the dunking as it sank into the murky substance. Matt fought the momentum and broke it as he began stroking back with his arms. The water was dark and despite having his eyes open, he couldn't see a thing. All he could do was rely on his other senses. Once he managed to cease his downward trajectory, he let his body float and he felt it being slowly pulled in what he guessed was an upward direction. Soon after, he felt his torso popping out of the water. He hurriedly forced his head to follow suit and he found himself thrashing and coughing as he breathed in fresh air mixed with droplets of dingy trench water.

"Goldfarb!"

Matt looked up and caught the sight of Benny's hysterical expression. "I'm alright," he informed him. Surprisingly, he felt rather calm despite his foul situation. The worst had happened. There wasn't much else to worry about at this very moment, or so he assumed. "Get me out of here," he demanded.

"Yeah. Right…" Benny sounded unsure.

Matt didn't like the tone of the older boy's voice. "Benny?"

"Dave! How we gonna get him outa here?" Ben shot out, his voice on the verge of crying.

Matt blinked. He'd totally forgotten about Dave. The other boy seemed to have gone awfully quiet. That was odd. Benny was shouting his heart out, and so far no response had come. Matt drew in a heavy sigh and shook his head slowly in disbelief. _Brilliant! Just fucking brilliant!_ "Benny!" he called out to the now extremely panicked boy, "Listen to me!"

"Dave!" Benny's shrill voice tore through the silent forest.

Matt wasn't the least bit surprised when the only response was eerie silence. "He's gone, Benny."

"No!" Ben retorted. "He'd never do this. Dave's not the kind—"

"It doesn't really matter now," Matt cut through Ben's hysterics. "Help me out of here and we'll go to his home and see if he's there, alright?"

"I… I don't think I can help you, Matt." Ben said quietly as he shot the younger boy a look of sheer hopelessness.

Matt felt desperate. "Yes you can. Find me a long branch that I can get a hold on. You can then pull me out. C'mon Benny. You can do it." He shot Ben his best 'I'm counting on you' expression but as he caught site of Ben's eyes, he could see that it was a lost cause. The older boy's eyes were those of a miserable puppy, that'd lost its mom. He'd given up before he'd even begun.

"It's pointless," Benny said. "I… I'll go get somebody to help."

 _Shit!_ Matt felt as if a rug had been pulled from under his feet. "No! Benny! Don't leave me here!" For the first time he'd let go of his cool façade. A feeling of pure dread filled the space his composure had left behind.

But Benny had already left the edge of the trench and as he continued gaining distance, Matt could hear the dwindling sound of his footsteps. "I'll get help!" Benny shouted. "I promise you!"

And then all Matt could hear was silence. Nary did a bird sing, nor did an insect buzz. Something about this place felt terribly wrong and Matt wanted to get out of Hickory Woods before he disappeared as well.

Despite it being high summer, he was beginning to shiver, having been immersed in the cold trench water for some twenty minutes by then. He'd heard plenty of stories from his mom about kids who'd suffered from being exposed too long to cold environments. That's the stuff the children of nurses were forced to listen to on oh too many an occasion. _'Be careful of doing X. You might end up in the hospital with this and that'_ was almost a daily mantra in his home. Usually he'd insist that his mom quit her nagging which of course she never did. Right now, though, his unintended knowledge of the danger of exposure meant that he was extremely driven. If nobody would help him, he'd have to do it himself.

Quickly scanning his surrounding, Matt decided to head further along the trench in the hope that he'd locate some object he could grab onto and use to climb out with.

Gingerly, taking extremely cautious steps, Matt waded down the waterway. As he progressed, the canal became narrower, but it was still just as deep as it was where he fell into it. The water was right below his chin, which meant that he alternated between slow wading and dog-paddling through the dark murky water until finally he saw his break. Some three feet ahead of him a thick root had broken through the trench's muddy wall and it was sticking out like an outstretched limb. Matt's heart beat faster as he noted the hopeful sight. By then he was beginning to feel tired and his entire body felt almost numb from the long exposure to the freezing water. He put all his strength into one final doggy-paddle. At last! He'd reached his target. But pulling himself out with the root's assistance wasn't proving an easy a task as he'd hoped. His frozen limbs went into mutiny as he tried to force them to cooperate with his brain. It was hard for him to move. "C'mon!" he urged himself. Even his voice sounded dim.

 _No!_ He had to get out of this stinking water! He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to find the fortitude he needed to pull himself onto dry land. He cried in agony as pins and needles shot through his ice-cold body. He let out excruciating grunts as he forced his body to move, one limb after the other, until he was free.

Literally speaking, he was not out of the woods yet. He still had to somehow cut his way through a maze of prickly shrubs. As tremors rushed through his body, he tried to move as fast as he could. In the back of his mind he somehow felt that time was of the essence. He feared he'd vanish into the wooden void just like that old lady and the squirrels and the insects and the birds and… Dave Leibowitz. His despair drove him despite his body's protests. He located narrow passageways through the thick bushes and squeezed himself in between, ignoring the poking and prodding of the prickly branches as they tore into his exposed skin and through his thin layer of clothing and he'd scramble to find his footing whenever he'd topple over as his body lost control when he'd encounter unsteady ground.

It seemed to take forever but finally he found his way back to the trail he'd walked along just a short while back with Ben and Dave. All that was left was for him to get the hell out of the forest. _Run!_ Matt ordered himself but all he could do was limp along the path. His body revolted against his will and refused to move any faster and the trail now seemed to last forever. Matt was feeling the energy draining out of his body. His steady limp turned into an extremely slow pace with him needing to stop every few minutes to catch his breath.

He trudged slowly and at some point he'd realized he'd let his eyelids droop. He forced his eyes open and tried to keep them in that state but he felt so tired. If he didn't sit down for just a couple of minutes, he knew he'd drop. Succumbing to his body's wishes, Matt plopped to the ground, lowered his head and let his eyelids close. _It'll just be for a couple of minutes_ , he recited in his mind. _Just a couple_ …

* * *

At first he noted the sounds. He couldn't really understand what he was hearing. It sounded fuzzy, as if he had a thick wad of cotton wool plugging his ears. It was mostly a humming intertwined with ringing and beeping. Gradually the hazy sounds began to take form; A phone ringing, a machine beeping and voices of people talking.

The next thing he noted was the pain. His entire body ached and if that wasn't enough, he felt as if somebody was shoving him from side to side, tugging at him and poking him with various objects and in various parts of his body.

Then he realized he was cold. He wanted to curl into a ball but when he tried to move his legs, it appeared they were pinned down. He felt miserable, anxious and confused. He didn't understand where he was and what was happening around him. He wanted all the prodding and poking to stop. He wanted the pain to cease and he wanted to cuddle under his warm blanket in peace.

"Matt?"

Was that?... "Mom?"

"Yes," his mother answered, her voice sounded unusually raspy.

Matt forced his eyes open. Bright light flowed in through the slits of his eyes, forcing him to squint. He wanted to put his palm over his eyes to shade them somewhat but when he pulled his arm, he felt a stinging pain and he winced.

"Don't move your hand, honey. You've got a tube in it," his mom explained.

 _A tube?_ What was she talking about? He turned his head slowly towards his mother's voice and focused on her figure until he could make it out. Finally he understood. He was in a hospital. Still, he wasn't able to piece together the details. Why was he here?

"They found you in Hickory, honey," his mom filled in the gaps. "You'd collapsed."

As she spoke, the events came back to him. "How did you find me?"

"Benny got help."

Matt sighed. At least Benny managed doing one thing right. He looked at his mother. "I want to go home."

"Soon, honey. Soon."

Ben noted that she wore a strange expression on her face and he felt discomfort forcing its way into his mind. "Mom? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sweetie. The doctors just want to make sure you're OK before you go home." His mom shot a glance behind her shoulder, as if she were expecting somebody to arrive.

Matt knew she was keeping something from him and he was beginning to lose his calm demeanor. He pushed himself to a sitting position, trying to ignore the painful tug of the IV tube in his left arm and the dangling heart monitor cables and oxygen tubes he was wearing.

His mom hurried to assist him and affixed the bed and the pillows to suit his new position. He followed her with his eyes and he couldn't ignore the worried countenance that lingered on her face. Fear mixed with anger took over his mind. What if… he hadn't made it out of Hickory? Or what if he made it out but something had happened to him?

"Mom? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, Mathew. Nothing's wrong with you," his mother insisted.

But Matt could hear the tremble in her voice and he couldn't contain himself anymore. "Why are you lying to me?!" he screamed and then to his utter shock a major explosion sounded.

Both Matt's and his mother's gaze rushed to meet the source of the thunderous noise. Before their very eyes the heart monitor erupted into flames as it spurted bright sparks accompanied by loud crackling sounds.

One of the nurses jolted into action, rushing to get a fire extinguisher before more harm could be done.

When all that remained was a smoldering monitor, another nurse approached both Matt and his mother and made sure they were fine. Finally when she was satisfied she asked them what had happened.

"Fucked if I know", Matt told her and then immediately followed this with "Can I go home now?"

* * *

 **FBI Headquarters, Washington DC**

Dana Scully entered the crowded open space office and winced. It had been about two months now that both she and Mulder were stuck with the degrading assignment of background checkups and she had yet to get used to the continuous humming and buzzing emitted by a room filled with people whose entire job consisted of endless talking on the phone. Not a day passed by without her arriving at her home with a massive headache. She was popping Tylenols like they were candy and lately she was considering looking for something stronger even though she knew it was bad medicine.

Contrary to her irregular work hours on the X-Files, these days she kept to regular office hours. There was slight chance one would see her romping about the place prior to 9AM. She made sure she never punched her card before nine and then her first stop was always the cafeteria. She'd take her time preparing her coffee and then she'd fuss over Mulder's, thus it would always be 9:15 AM by the time she'd actually present herself amongst the other office drones in 'background checkup'. Her motivation was way past rock bottom and the only reason she didn't quit was Mulder. She stayed to support his cause.

It used to be _their_ cause but lately she just didn't know anymore. She was having doubts about it all. Was the cause truly that important? Was this what she had signed up to? How was this underqualified activity going to achieve anything? Wouldn't they both be better off trying to pursue their interests outside the bureau? Maybe they'd join The Lone Gunmen. They could do a world of good there, she was certain of it. Alas, whenever the discussion came up, Mulder would toss it aside with vehemence. He refused to even listen to, let alone consider, the option. He would recite his usual mantra: _'This is what they want us to do Scully, and I will not give them the pleasure.'_ And so, while she just went through the motions of dutifully coming to work every day, but not actually letting herself sink her teeth into it, Mulder continued his routine of arriving at the office long before anybody else did. He'd sit on his computer reading various cases. He'd bring in books from the library which he'd read during down time. He'd collect newspaper snippets in files and he would even try to find interesting angles during his background checkups.

She'd find herself raising her eyebrow on many occasions as she heard him inquiring people about implants, unusual medical procedures and even about abductions. None of these questions were part of the usual survey they were required to go through during their phone interviews, and on occasion Kersh would call him to his office to reprimand him re his unusual interview methods, but this did little to quash Mulder's enthusiasm. It pissed Kersh, but that only served Mulder's purposes and he felt quite smug whenever he'd get back from yet another admonishment session with their current assistant director.

She'd, of course, berate him about his behavior, and he would always laugh. "What else can the motherfucker do to us, Scully? He won't fire us. That's one thing I'm certain of. We're doing what we're told. So I have a few unconventional questions I ask during the interviews. When has that ever been grounds for dismissal? Besides, I have two toothbrushes in my drawer ready for when he orders us to go scrub the latrines. As far as I'm concerned, I can take whatever shit he shoves down our throats, and I mean this all the way down to the literal sense of things."

To this all she could summon was a meek smile. Her heart just wasn't in it. She sure wished she could be as driven as Mulder was, yet she wasn't, and she felt guilty about this, almost as if she were betraying a promise. Then she'd get annoyed that she'd involve guilt in this whole ordeal. Didn't she have the right to feel crappy when she was crapped upon? She so wished she felt purposeful like Mulder did, but as the days passed, it seemed like this would be her life from now on and she wondered how much more she could take and… Wham! Guilt slammed right back into her, telling her she should be ashamed of herself and she wanted to scream at her subconscious to shut the _hell_ up!

She took in the already bustling hall of desks, chairs and FBI agents, gave her aching temples a quick massage, heaved a deep breath and proceeded into the open space abyss. As she passed the various agents on her way, she offered customary courteous gestures. This pretending game she was forced to endure on a daily basis was beginning to get on her nerves. While Mulder never gave a crap about accepted social norms and thus never bothered with even a measly hello to anybody, she'd been brought up on the laps of proper etiquette and she wasn't able to shake it out of her system. Within her the child rebel would scream at the agents she greeted to go sod off, but outside, the agreeable habits she was taught from a very young age controlled her behavior down to a tee. She sure missed the lonesome basement office where nobody saw them or gave a damn about them and she could be free to tell Mulder things she'd otherwise feel ashamed to even think of in public.

Slowly, she approached her desk. She was somewhat taken aback to find Mulder's desk unoccupied, but she soon relaxed when she noted his jacket on the back of his seat. _So he **was** here_ , she calmed herself down. He'd probably gone to the bathroom.

She landed the carton coffee carrier on her desk, opened the second drawer and shoved her, as of late, rather thin briefcase into it and turned on her computer. Before settling in her seat for the day, she pulled one of the paper cups from the carrier and put it beside the keyboard on Mulder's desk, then she finally plopped into her seat and logged into the FBI system. She scanned through her email, quickly locating the new list of people assigned for her to interview, and then she clicked on the data collection software icon to get it ready for her first call of the day.

She stretched her legs under her desk and as she did so, she let her shoes fall off. That was another tiny leeway she allowed herself lately. The back part of the desk went all the way to the floor, thus providing coverage for her tiny breach of protocol. She found no good reason for having her shoes on while she sat at a desk all day and as long as this bit of disorderly fashion was kept in the dark, she allowed herself this tiny indulgence.

She grabbed the phone headset and donned it, then located the first name on the list and brought it up on the screen before her. She was about to hit the computer call button when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

"Hey," Mulder gave her an unusually lavish grin as she looked up at him.

She frowned. 'Cheerful Mulder' meant something was up. "Hey."

"What's with the funny face?"

Obviously he wasn't going to explain unless she insisted upon it, so she didn't waste any time hovering about the subject. "What are you up to, Mulder?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "What do you mean, what am I up to?"

She huffed at his retort. "I know that look, Mulder. You have something up your sleeve. I sure hope we are not going to meet another mysterious contact in the middle of nowhere. You know how things ended the last time you went down that path."

His smile widened and she was beginning to feel extremely irritated. "I don't know why you keep having such ideas about me, Scully. Haven't you noticed I've turned a page in my life? Look at me; I'm the most obedient agent in the FBI these days. Need somebody for a shit job? Look no further. Here comes agent Mulder. He'll take any shit-load you'd toss down his way and do it with the most amazing smile on his face."

She was ready to punch him in the belly. "Cut the crap, Mulder!"

"But Scully, I _am_ crap-man. I love the crap—OOHHH!" he yelped as her fist made contact with his ribs. "Jeez, Scully! Why do you have to be so _Goddamn_ serious! You should really find some joy in things, you know."

She glared at him. "I think I have just found my joy, and you better watch out before I find it again," she warned him as she brandished her fists before his face.

"OK," Mulder said, suddenly sounding deflated. He moved over to his desk and grabbed his jacket and began putting it on.

Scully gave him an incredulous look. "Mulder? What are you doing?"

"I'm putting my jacket on," he stated the obvious.

Scully scowled. "I can _see_ that. _Why_ are you putting your jacket on?"

He hesitated and Scully felt a tight knot forming in her belly. The knot tightened even further when instead of answering, Mulder averted his gaze and stared at the ground.

Scully shook her head in disbelief. "No! No way! You did everything they told you. They can't fire you now!" She was both pissed and upset at the same time. This couldn't be happening.

Before she could continue her tirade, though, Mulder put his hand up and signaled her to hold her horses. "Errr… Scully… I don't know how to tell you this. I feel pretty crappy about it all but they're not firing me. I'm going on a field mission. An X-File to be precise…"

Scully's heart skipped a beat. She was confused. Not only was Mulder safe, he was actually going to investigate an X-File? So why was he feeling so rotten about it that he'd have to do this whole song and dance routine before he got to the point… Unless… "I'm not invited to the party, I take it," she muttered quietly.

Mulder looked her in the eye, the puppy dog expression plastered fully on his face. "I'm sorry," he told her as he patted her shoulder with his hand, trying his best to comfort her.

She put on a sad brave face for his sake. "It's OK. You deserve a break. You've really done your part for King and Country here. Might as well enjoy your reward.

He offered her a weak smile of gratitude, and then turned to go.

As an afterthought, Scully shot after him, "How come they need you for an X-File? Don't they have a team of their own?"

He paused in his tracks and Scully frowned as his shoulders slumped. _Oh-Oh_ , she thought.

"Diana asked for my assistance on this one. I… couldn't say no to her." With that Mulder resumed his stride towards the open space entrance. As he progressed, it was clear he was picking up his pace.

Scully stared at his back, too dumbstruck to utter a word. Her façade never betrayed the deep pain inside of her as she sat back in her seat and began the tedious routine of background checkups sans her usual partner.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note:  
An almost two month break from the previous chapter. My life has taken a turn for the super busy, plus some sort of a writer's block. Today, I _suddenly _felt very clear about the story's direction and six pages were written in a very short time._

 _Just to make things clear - I am not a fan of Diana Fowley, but I know from the series that Mulder had strong feelings for her and this chapter will discuss their history. I always liked that nobody was perfect or totally evil in the X-Files. I liked that the characters were well-rounded and thus CSM, despite giving Mulder a hard time, seemed to constantly find ways to help him... and Fowley, who was constantly working behind M &S's backs, was the one who saved Mulder and it cost her, her life, and finally I was fascinated with Mulder's inability to see Diana's flaws and this story deals with his confused state in regard to Fowley. So read ahead if you dare *grin*_

Episode References: "Triangle", Season one (various).

* * *

 **"On The Sideline"**

Chapter Two

 **En Route to Justville**

Mulder wiped the condensation off the car window by his side with his jacket sleeve and peered outside. He couldn't remember when he'd last gone on a case during winter; specifically during snow times. Sure, he and Scully had a ton of rainy days under their belt, but as far as he could recall, they'd only truly experienced snow in Antarctica or Alaska, which was what he'd fondly refer to as super- _duper_ snow and not _normal_ winter snow. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how they'd managed to miss out on such an experience. He mused how it would have been nice to snuggle by some motel fireplace with humongous mugs of hot chocolate as they discussed a case file. He sighed and then smiled wearily. Would they ever go out on a case together now that things have changed for the worse?

He tried to shove the dreary thoughts aside as he made up his mind to take Scully to some snowy hut in the very near future so they could just snuggle by a fireplace and discuss whatever just for heck of it. They didn't need a case file for such an occasion after all, did they?

"Fox?"

Mulder shuddered as he was jolted out of his warm wintery reverie. He blinked, trying to re-focus on the present, but when things did get back into focus he winced mentally and slumped back into the car seat.

"Fox? What's wrong?" Diana Fowley prodded when he didn't offer a prompt response.

"Nothing's wrong," he lied. Not that he was planning on divulging his innards to Diana, even though he really needed a sounding board right now, and Diana once was _the_ right person for the job. Not anymore, though. She'd managed to back-stab him and Scully a good number of times ever since she'd come back into his life and there was no way he was going to produce his heart to her and offer it on a platter. No. Not this time. He was over her. He was certain of it.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Diana insisted, this time accompanying her relentlessness with a physical gesture as her palm gently pressed against his.

He'd resisted the urge to leap as her hand made contact with his. _Fuck me!_ How on Earth could he still react to this woman like this?! It almost felt like sorcery was in the works.

He sucked in air and blinked. Then he forced himself to breathe in and out slowly, but the task was proving too hard as his body was sending contradictory messages. His heart palpations sounded faster and heavier to his ears, his palm began feeling clammy under her touch and to his utter disgust he realized he was on the verge of a hard-on. _Crap! No._ He had to… he had to fight this uncontrolled response and he had to do it right _now_.

With too much frenzy and lacking any finesse, he yanked his hand from Diana's light grip and began rummaging through the case file on his lap as if he were a foolish teen, trying to locate his book report under the scrutinizing eyes of his teacher.

He knew his erratic behavior wasn't lost on Diana but at least it served its purpose as it diverted her attention from his bodily reaction while he got it under his mental control.

"Fox?" Surprise coupled with bewilderment echoed in Diana's voice.

"Yeah," Mulder muttered as he continued his senseless rummaging.

"Tell me what's bothering you. I _know_ something's on your mind. You know you can't really hide much from me. I know you all too well."

Something about her voice had a strange effect on him. His psychologist logic kept telling him there was something bordering on the psychotic in Diana's way of saying things, yet it seemed to put him in some form of trance, as if she truly had a spell on him. Despite all logic, all he wanted to do right now was to confess to her and admit his feelings. It was so unnerving to him, this inability to think straight in her presence and the way she could disarm him with a few simple words.

He knew deep down that she was up to no good and yet, at that very moment he couldn't understand why. Given the plain facts, Diana was actually being kind to him; taking him away from the office dungeon, saving him from being buried under endless background checkups. She was taking him on a case; an X-File. She was offering him the very thing he craved and needed to stay sane. So why was he feeling this was all so very wrong? Why was he experiencing a mixture of both guilt and pleasure at the very same time? Why wasn't he just letting it all go? He should be deeply immersed in the case, staring out of the window, learning the terrain, gathering new information like he usually did on a mission, but instead he was a million miles away, thinking of Scully still stuck behind the dreaded computer with her phone headset tugging at her auburn hair. In his daydream Scully was wearing an accusing expression and as she bore her eye into him, Mulder felt himself being mentally kicked in the gut.

"Is this because of Scully?"

Diana's words butted into his thoughts. He refused to acknowledge them. He couldn't bring himself to admit this to this woman and he felt appalled at himself once more. Why wasn't he able to tell Diana how he felt about Scully? Then he realized that he wasn't able to admit this to anybody. Actually, there weren't too many people he _could_ admit this to. Frohike and the dudes suspected as much. They teased him on the subject many a times but he constantly rebuffed their attempts to coerce him into confessing his feelings for his partner. He presumed Skinner had his own suspicions. Even so, the A.D. would never attest to the fact, though, and Mulder would never dream of approaching him on the subject.

And then there was Scully. She was just about the _last_ person in the world he could talk to about this matter. She confused him terribly; caring so deeply for him and his passions, just about dying for his cause, willing to suffer in silence as they were humiliated on a daily basis with the underqualified requirements of background checkups, and yet, so secretive most of the times about her feelings and thoughts, unable to admit if she was low, sad, miserable, constantly trying to keep a professional, sometimes even chipper, appearance when he was around, only physically touching him when he was sick or injured. He always felt the passion was there, yet it was so hard to find tangible proof, almost like the existence of extra-terrestrials.

To add insult to injury, the one time he _did_ fess up and right out spoke the three words he usually kept in the back of his mind, she gave him that _'Mulder, you're crazy'_ stare of hers and the only good thing about that moment was that he was so high from the adventure on the Queen Anne that he didn't take her rejection too hard. But now, as he recalled her response, he could feel his heart being singed.

"I'm sorry, Fox," Diana spoke up again. "I guess if we will require a pathologist on the case, we can get Agent Scully down here to do the job. Will this be good enough for you?"

His heart emitted a major thump as a response to Diana's suggestion and he was just about to open his mouth to confirm how jolly he was feeling at the thought of her offer, and then he realized just how talented Diana was in getting him to comply with her wishes. She'd say whatever he'd want to hear to placate him and get him to be a good obedient boy. Heck, she might as well throw a doggy biscuit at him and he would probably heel. He shook his head at the thought.

"What?" incredulity now tinged Diana's voice. "You don't want this?"

He turned to face her. "Does it really matter what _I_ want?"

Diana gave him a quick glance and then turned her head back to the road. "Of course it matters," she insisted.

Mulder huffed. "Whatever."

"You know, Fox, all this negative energy doesn't suit you."

Mulder snorted. "Yeah, me and positive energy go like two pees in a pod, it's just that today I left it at the dry cleaners- Strike that, I think I actually left it somewhere around the department of background checkups— Strike that again. I just remembered where I put it. It's down at the basement, hiding in a filing cabinet under the letter X as in, Xitement."

He got silence in response for his bitter crack. Yes, that was a lot better, or so he thought. It didn't take more than five seconds for his guilt to settle in. It was like he was riddled with it. Guilt for ditching Scully with all the scut work, guilt for being a jerk towards Diana and the everlasting guilt over not being able to solve the mystery of his sister's disappearance. Of course there were so many more good reasons for him to feel guilty but he decided that right at that moment he'd stick to these three. They were the most current on his long list of rationalisms for feeling crappy about everything.

"I'm sorry," he let out quietly. "It's been a lousy couple of months."

"It's OK, Fox," Diana was almost on the verge of cooing at him, her voice was so soft and tender.

And once again he couldn't resist her. It was such a deep physical attraction, he felt helpless and ashamed but he wanted to let go, to let Diana take over. He didn't want to fight or argue. He didn't want to debate issues, to pursue justice, or worry about anything and Diana, she seemed willing to provide him with all the support he wished for and more.

Scully… she was there for him, but it always felt conditioned. She wouldn't just offer her support freely. He'd have to work hard for it. Yes, he knew that working hard made sure he stayed on track but it was so goddamn tiring. Constantly having to debate every minute detail, having every idea he'd come up with under endless scrutiny, dealing with the tedious need to have his theories tested over and over. It was like endless scraping against a door until… yes, he needed a break. Just one tiny break.

So he was going on a case with Diana. What was so wrong with that? Yeah, he was still him. He worked on the X-Files with Diana long before Scully came by, so how was this any different?

So why was he still feeling the urge to justify his actions? And to whom?

Oh, he knew _goddamn_ well to whom.

 _Fuck it!_

He picked up the case file, his anger made him more determined than ever to prove that he was still capable of working on an X-File sans Dana Scully. "Let's go over the case," he almost barked at Diana.

"Certainly, Fox," Fowley responded, a mixture of satisfaction and pleasure emanating from her voice.

Mulder resisted the urge to wince. _Keep calm_ , he ordered himself, and dove deep into the contents of the X-File on his lap. He'd not had much time to study the case like he used to when he worked in the X-Files. He sure wished Diana would have given him a few days to work out the kinks and the loopholes, but by the time she'd called him to Skinner's office for the debriefing, she'd already received confirmation for the 302 she'd filed on their behalf.

It wasn't like she couldn't have given him the heads up, though. He noted that the 302 with _his_ name on it was filed a week prior to her informing him of the case. He concluded that she'd intentionally waited for the very last minute to inform him, probably to prevent him from finagling a way for Scully to join him. He couldn't really blame her, for he'd probably done exactly that and he knew that Diana wasn't too fond of his petite brainy partner.

"So," Diana spoke up, "What do you make of it?"

Mulder wasn't quite sure what to make of it. A series of fires and electrical disasters all occurring in one small town. To date the local sheriff's office had listed over one hundred such incidents. On occasion there would be two to three such events happening in one single day. Things had become so bad, the town council was now petitioning to build their own fire station. At the moment two fire trucks from Binghamton were permanently parked at the local sheriff's parking lot. Two lives were lost, numerous burn victims, a couple have been scarred so badly, there was slight chance they'd be able to resume any form of normal function, a great number of damaged properties, on two occasions properties burnt down completely. There were also three re-occurrences, i.e., a location that had endured two such incidents with varying degrees of damage.

"Fox? Nothing on your mind?"

"On the contrary," he replied. "It's just that there's nothing worthwhile to discuss. I'm still trying to find some connection between all the incidents aside from the fact that they all occurred in Justville."

"OK," Diana replied but didn't add anything to the discussion.

Mulder tried to remember how things were when they used to work together. Did Diana always leave him to debate the issue with himself? Certainly Scully never did. By now they would have been in deep deliberations regarding his and her theories. Scully would come up with numerous plausible explanations for these unexplained incidents. He'd be contradicting probably every single one of them, but she'd insist on checking each and every one out before conceding to his view of things. He'd fake mock her but deep inside he would be in awe at her tenacity, especially having to deal with his endless rebuttals.

So maybe Diana always agreed with him and he had it easy, and back then he didn't appreciate opposing opinions and their value. He'd view his opposers as people who were against him and thus not worthy of even the slightest of considerations. Back in the day he didn't understand the importance of trying to disprove a theory and the fact that once a theory couldn't be disproved, only then would it be considered as proof.

A tiny smile flitted across his face as he recalled the first few cases with Scully. God, he was such a smug jerk, but Scully, she never gave up, nor did she give in. He'd throw her dead cows, sanguinations, nose bleeds, abductions and flying saucers, and she'd have an answer for everything. It didn't take too long for him to really like her. Yes, he found her looks extremely pleasing the first time he laid his eyes on her, but it was her smarts and personality that truly won him over. Not that he'd admit that to her, but he soon found himself with that daily routine of calling her late in the evening just for the sake of hearing her voice and enjoying the rapport they had going between them.

"Fox?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there something funny about this case?"

Mulder was caught off guard. "Funny?"

"You're smiling," Diana pointed out.

Understanding dawned on him. "Just random thoughts, 's'all."

"Care to share?" She prodded.

Of course that was the last thing he wanted to do, so he deflected her question with one of his own. "Don't you have any theories _you'd_ like to share on this case?"

A thunderous pause ensued and Mulder tried his hardest not to jump to conclusions. He was on the verge of a heartfelt disappointed sigh when Diana finally spoke.

"I have some theories but I thought I'd hear your view of things, see if we see eye to eye like in the good old days. Y'know, see if we still click."

Mulder rolled his eyes at her reply. It basically confirmed his suspicions and also opened his eyes as to their relationship from days long gone. Obviously it had nothing to do with work because it was damn clear he was the one who really came to work, while Diana came to drool all over him, apparently.

"What?" Diana wondered when Mulder hadn't responded.

Despite wanting to avoid confrontation, he couldn't hold himself anymore. "I don't get it!"

"What don't you get?" She was supposed to sound confused, but Diana's tone sounded cold instead.

"You've known about this case for at least a week, maybe even more than that, and you have no theories?!"

"That's not what I said—"

"Oh c'mon, Diana! Give me a little more credit than that. I am a psychology major after all. I can _tell_ when somebody is full of crap!"

"That's not very fair," Diana lamented.

"What isn't?"

"You know how things are in the X-Files right now."

Mulder glared at Diana. "Are you kidding me?! Did you notice where I've been hanging around lately? And besides, whenever I do try to even step on the basement floor, your personal guard dog, Jeffery, sniffs me out and sends me away."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Diana replied.

Mulder frowned. "Huh? I don't understand."

"Fox, do you think I'm having such an easy time working on the X-Files?"

Mulder snorted. "I wouldn't exactly call what you're doing 'work', to put it mildly. I've been following things from afar and I believe I can count the number of cases you've actually handled on a single hand, and all of these were probably due to my involvement in them, i.e., you dealt with The X-File because you had to deal with me and Scully. Based on that, I'd say you haven't been doing much work so I'd say you have had it easy. A lot easier than me and Scully, that's for sure."

Diana smiled. "It's so easy to make assumptions, isn't it, Fox. You know, It's sort of a let down, to be honest. You used to have such a good sense of things, and look at you now. So sure of yourself, you come right out at me and insult me."

He offered her a wane smile. "So now you're using the oldest defense in the book. Attacking me and my professionalism and not admitting to the truth."

"Christ, Fox! The truth is biting you in the arse as we speak and you can't for the life of you figure it out? Do you think Agent Spender is only out to get _you_? The world revolves around Fox Mulder? Well, wake up, Fox! I have to deal with his aggression just as much as you do, maybe even more so. I have to sit with that sorry excuse for a man in the same room every day and eat his crap whenever he serves it which is quite often."

Mulder was dumbfounded. "You can't be serious Diana."

"Damn right I am. I've been trying so hard to keep this department open and Jeffery has been trying his darnest to shut us down."

"But… I thought…" Mulder was lost for words.

"What?" Diana's voice went up a couple of notches. "That I was trying to destroy you? To destroy the X-Files?! Fox! I have been trying to _save_ the X-Files. That's why I asked to be assigned to this department in the first place. I knew that with Jeffery there, no sooner will the X-Files be shut down. I have always been on your side, Fox. You know this was our niche back in the day and I still value everything we did back then. It's like our baby Fox. I'd never let somebody kill our baby. Never!"

Mulder shook his head, guilt welling up in him, but doubt was still lingering. He was confused. His hunches were still top notch. They were telling him that something was off with Diana's explanation. "But…"

"What?!" Diana barked. "You still don't believe me?"

Mulder's brows furrowed. "If Spender is causing so much trouble, why haven't you spoken to Skinner about this?"

Diana let out a bitter chuckle. "As if. I'd gone to Skinner on numerous occasions, complained over and over about Jeffrey's attitude and about the disgraceful state the X-Files are in. To date he hasn't done a thing. All he does is nod, placate me by telling me he'll handle it then send me away. I have waited and hoped but nothing has changed. It's quite clear that some big wig has Jeffrey's back and that Skinner either can't do anything about it or that he's possibly in on it."

Mulder's squinted at her last remark. "Skinner? Diana, this is truly stretching it. Maybe Skinner's helpless, but he's definitely not behind all of this."

"Whatever. Look, all I'm saying is that I had to pull a gazillion strings to get you to join me on this case and the last thing I expected was to get a verbal clobbering from you. You'd rather stay buried in Background Checkup? If so, fine. I will not bother you again with an X-File."

And once again she was attacking as a means of defending herself. Mulder lost all patience with the endless debate. "Fine, Diana. I don't care what your reasons for all of this are. You know what? I don't even care anymore if you have theories, or if you don't. Neither do I care if you give a damn about this case, or if I will be the only one giving a damn. I fuckin' don't care anymore about anything." With that, he turned his face away from her, back to the condensation-filled window. He let his nose press against it and gradually as his schnoz grew colder, the warm vapor of his breath formed a clear circle on the window, gradually growing until it cleared all the way to his eyes.

Once again he took in the white-clad scenery outside. The tranquil illusion of the snowy outdoors had a welcoming soothing effect on him. He felt his body relaxing the more he took in the view outside. It made him aware of just how tense he'd gotten. He wasn't quite sure if the tension was due to his conversation with Diana, or a general state he'd gotten into. The fact remained; it was gradually loosening its grip on him.

Diana also remained silent and Mulder's tension levels began to escalate once more as she kept her peace. He wasn't used to having a silent partner. Scully was quite private about her feelings but she was never the silent type. If he would have accused her of anything even remotely close to what he'd accused Diana of, she would have been either all over him or she'd see his side of things and concur. Diana did none of the above. She didn't get angry at his retort, nor did she try to appease him. She just left things hanging in the air.

It was definitely her forte to one of his main weaknesses and she utilized it well. She'd let him simmer with his thoughts until at some point he'd boil over, unable to contain _her_ silence. Meanwhile, as he'd reveal his thoughts and feelings, she'd keep all of hers deeply hidden. She would have made a brilliant chess or poker player with her cool façade, Mulder mused.

He knew that right now what he _really_ needed to do was to just sit quiet and not take the bait but Diana's mute imitation was grating on his nerves. He wanted her to bark a snide retort to his outburst. He needed to vent so badly and Diana was not being a good sport in this regard. It was driving him up the wall. He heaved a heavy sigh. _To_ _ **Hell**_ _with it!_ He _had_ to work with Diana, so he'll make do with what he had in his hands, despite the eerie vibe he was receiving from his mythological Ex.

"Fine. Don't say a word. Guess I'll work this case out on my own and you can be my chauffeur. Always fancied my own personal lady driver. I'll get you a chauffeur's hat once we get to this town. Just hope they have a shop that sells them."

Mulder looked aside and caught Diana's up-curled right lip. At least she responded to his bitter cracks. "I was thinking of UFOs."

That seemed to have caught Diana off guard. "UFOs? In what regard?"

"The case. The X-File." Mulder explained as he half lifted the folder with its protruding bits of paper and pointed it in her direction."

"Right," understanding dawned on her. "What makes you think this has anything to do with UFOs?"

He gave her an incredulous stare. "You have no memory of our work in the early days of the X-Files?"

"Stop patronizing me, Fox. I haven't dealt with the X-Files for a long time—"

"I beg to differ," he cut into her speech. "You've been dealing with X-Files for over two months now. I'd assumed you'd have regained your memory of at least some of the fundamentals by now."

"Look, what exactly are you trying to prove here? That I've been doing nothing?"

He nodded.

"Fine, if that makes you feel all nice and smart and proud of yourself, great. Do you want to work on this case or not?!"

Mulder sighed. "It's a known fact that strong electro-magnetic fields are present where UFOs are sighted. Another known fact is that such electro-magnetic fields cause various electrical appliances to go haywire, i.e., explode, or just behave weirdly, i.e. radios suddenly switching stations on their own, strange messages emanating from TV screens, flight equipment interference, lights flickering and so forth."

"Right, I recall this now," Diana told him. "I also want to point out that my specialty is para-psychology and not electrical engineering, so I'd expect you to cut me some slack on these matters."

"And I'm a psychology major but you don't see me shying away from fields outside my training scope. The X-Files is too vast a field to stay narrow minded. Seriously, Diana, you don't expect me to give you a break here. You should be on top of these things."

Diana seemed to lose some of her cool-ish façade. "Fox, you have to understand. With Jeffery in the room all day—"

"Yeah, yeah. Hide behind agent boy wonder."

"Damn you!" Diana's façade finally cracked all the way. "I am trying here and all you can do is shit in my face."

It was the first time since they found each other again that Diana Fowley showed some genuine emotion. As it was such a rare event these days, despite it being a very small gesture on her behalf, it felt very profound on the receiving side. It stirred a deep emotion within him, bringing back memories of long nights at the basement office, him munching an almost dried-up pizza while Diana would be sipping her tenth coffee, all the while stirring clear of the cheesy Italian dish. He was so young back then and Diana offered him a window to a world he hadn't known before. As he'd hunch over yet another case filled with images of crop circles, she'd lay her hand gently on his thigh, then she'd slowly massage it, all the while moving closer and closer down his crotch until she'd finally reach his by-now extra hard organ. She'd wrap her hand firmly around it, then she'd begin to slowly rub against it until he wasn't able to contain himself anymore and it erupted like an angry volcano. Luckily, he'd always have a backup suit hanging around, although when he had left the suit there, originally, he didn't have a hand job in mind.

The hand jobs turned into blow jobs, then he'd begun showing up at her apartment and after a few nights of missionary sex they'd moved on to less conventional positions. At times they'd both arrive at the office with deep dark circles under their eyes after endless rounds of experimental coupling. He'd especially need her after the tough violent cases. The X-Files were still not his official niche, just a side project, and he was still working for the VCU, and after being forced to deal with vicious crimes, too many mutilated bodies and endless psychotic minds he'd have to delve into, what he really needed was pure unadulterated intercourse, no questions asked, and Diana was always there to provide his needs.

But it wasn't just for the sex that he found himself constantly coming back to her. It wasn't so clear to him back then, but as the years since Diana left him, passed, he took on a new perspective and understanding of the nature of their relationship.

He'd basically lost his mother when Sam disappeared. Physically, his mother was still around, but mentally she was nothing like her old self. He was too young to understand what was happening. He was trying to cope with Sam's loss just as his parents were trying but it was far harder on him. His dad left them and had made the bottle his sole companion. What meager conversation they had was laced with bitterness and what Mulder perceived as anger towards him. He didn't understand why his dad was so mean to him at first, but gradually, he felt himself grow cold towards his dad. He thought he was just reacting to what he was receiving but in all truth that was just a means of self-preservation. If he'd let himself remain the vulnerable child he was back then, surely his father's continued abuse would have turned him into a wreck.

So he wasn't a wreck; he was a rock, just like in that Simon and Garfunkel song. He had grown as hard and as cold as his dad so that nothing could touch him and break him. He was now alone as far as he was concerned. His dad was mostly out of his life and his mother who was physically present stayed in bed all day. When he would go up to see her, what he found was only a distant shadow of his mother's old self. Her hair was unkempt and tangled; she was always wearing the same nightgown from the night his sister disappeared. She refused to take it off. She wouldn't even shower and the room reeked of the smell of her body odor, a mixture of sour sweat and salty tears. He'd bring her food so she'd eat something. It wasn't much. All he could make was cold food; a sandwich of P&J or a bowl of cereal. The next time he'd come up he'd find most of the food spread across the room, adding to the foul stench already filling the dark closed room. He couldn't tell if she'd consumed much of it, but he'd dutifully clean up the mess as his mother sobbed in the background.

He gave up trying to calm her down after a couple of days. His attempts only made things worse. They woke up whatever demons tormented her soul and the sobbing turned into total outrage. She'd scream and yell and throw whatever she could get her hands on at him. He'd cringe with fear and hurt and misery at her reaction.

At some point he found her passed out in her bed. At first he thought she was sleeping and he let her be, but a few hours later when he came back up and he noted she hadn't changed position, he felt a tight knot in his gut. He was a bright kid even back then and he always paid attention to details and he knew at that very moment that something was out of order. He dashed down the stairs and hurriedly called for help.

After they revived her, she was committed and for two weeks he was forced to stay with his dad. He tried staying away from his father's house as much as possible. Every day he'd sneak in at around midnight. He knew his dad would be passed out on the sofa by then, and usually he wasn't wrong about his assumptions. As he'd tiptoe his way into the small living room, a strong whiff of alcohol and vomit would hit his nostrils. He would fight his gag reflex as he climbed the stairs in silence. Once he was in his room he'd lock the door and only then he would suck in a deep breath of air.

On a number of occasions he wasn't as lucky. Somehow, his dad managed to keep some of his senses about him and he'd manage to hold on till midnight. Those occasional meetings between father and son were far from tranquil. Mulder would try his best to ignore his father's curses, despite his relentless attempts to entice some form of reaction from his son. When he received none, his dad would move on to hurling empty bottles at him, and Mulder was glad his dad was so drunk that his aim was off. Back in the day he used to go to the shooting range with his dad and Mulder could still remember the perfect scoresheets he'd produce. If not for the booze, Mulder would have ended in the ICU.

Mulder would then keep ducking until his dad ran out of objects to toss at him, then he'd lunge at him, and Mulder would manage to evade him, again, thanks to his father's disposition. He'd dash up the stairwell as his dad clambered behind him. Once in his room, he'd force the door shut and lock it. The pounding on his door was soon to follow. It would last for hours, until he'd hear a large thud and he'd know his dad had finally keeled over. Not that he'd get any sleep after that. He'd lie in bed, his eyes wide open, staring at the window and praying for Sam to come and take him with her.

But of course, she never came.

After two weeks his mom was released from hospital. He was with her as the doctor gave her the discharge papers. As they were heading out the door, the doctor spoke.

"Young man?"

His mother continued walking but Mulder stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. "Are you talking to me?"

"Indeed," The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I guess you are now the man in your house, and your mother will need you to make sure she can cope."

"But…" Mulder wanted to protest. He thought that the hospital had cured her. That he'll have his old mom back again. What little hope he had, flew out the window as Mulder took in the doctor's grave expression.

"It is a great burden that I am putting on your young shoulders, but your mother will probably never be the person she once was. The loss of her daughter, your sister, has been such a traumatic event; she will need to stay on medication to keep her functioning. It is up to you to make sure she sticks to her medicine regime or she will regress to the condition she was in prior to her hospitalization, or possibly even worse."

Mulder had no doubt what the medical professional meant. He nodded, turned around and rushed out of the doctor's office. He could taste vomit rising up his throat as nausea took over. He looked down the hallway, his mom was already out of sight, but he couldn't help himself anymore. The bathroom was just outside the office. He pushed its door with great force and rushed to the nearest stall. He collapsed in front of the porcelain bowl and spewed his stomach's contents into it. By the time he was done, his entire body trembled. His hair clung to the sticky sweat beads that lined his forehead and his breathing sounded rapid and loud in his ears.

He knew he had to hurry and find his mom. He knew she was now his responsibility and that the roles had now been reversed, but he didn't want to leave the tiny stall opposite his mom's doctor's office. At that very moment he knew that once he'd leave, he would have to bid his previous life a final farewell and he was just not willing to accept the new life that awaited him.

Of course, he finally left that stall and for the next year or so he watched his mother like a hawk, making sure she never forgot to take her pills. He couldn't recall when he stopped worrying about her not taking her pills, and when he realized his mom had become dependent on them. At some point he noticed she seemed even more out of it than usual. She'd sit at their porch for hours and just stare at nothing. Her pace was slow. She would drag herself about the house, barely lifting her feet from the ground, and then he noted she would insist he'd go get her pills refilled more often than before. He refused, and she'd get into hysterical crying fits until he relented and she'd resumed the endless staring routine.

Gradually he just accepted that this was how things were going to be. His mother was alive, but she might as well have been a pot plant. She ate and drank, she combed her hair and showered, she dressed in her clothes and even did the dishes, but she wasn't his mother anymore. She was a stranger to him; a creature living in his house and nothing more.

By the time he left for Oxford, he knew his mom could cope on her own. Years of pill popping had numbed her enough to the state that she was able to function. She would never be the nurturing mother she once was, but she was able to take care of herself. Mulder only wished he could have left his household earlier but as it were, the moment he turned eighteen, he bordered a plane bound for England. He could have gone to Harvard or Yale, but he wanted to put as much distance between himself and his past, and Oxford was eager to have his brilliant mind.

When he returned to the States, he felt he was over the hardships of his childhood but once he joined the bureau he quickly found himself drawn to cases involving suffering children. Deep down he understood where this behavior was stemming from and yet he wasn't able to stay away from those cases and even though it was clear to his superiors that there were some troubling issues surrounding Mulder's choice of cases, they were too eager to utilize his uncanny abilities than to deal with his mental stability.

That gap between the bureau's needs and Mulder's was soon to be filled by Diana Fowley.

Mulder wasn't quite sure what she saw in him, but he knew what he saw in her. Diana managed to unravel him, to loosen his lips as if they were knots in curly hair and to crack through his bitter façade.

It didn't happen right away, though. At first it was just a chance encounter. He was immersed deeply in a book at the parapsychology department library and was startled by an unexpected voice aimed at him.

"Aren't you somewhat out of your element?"

He nearly jumped out of his shoes. He never heard her approaching. He took in her features. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her suit gave her a serious kind of appeal, but her eyes had a mischievous glint and the moment he caught sight of them, he both relaxed from his initial surprise but then he put his mental shields on the ready. He wasn't planning on gaining any friends in the bureau. He was only there for the work, and because he sent a sort of spooky vibe, the other agents steered clear of his path. As far as he was concerned, that suited him fine.

The unfamiliar, smiling, female agent obviously knew nothing about him, or she wouldn't have approached him in the first place. "What makes you think I'm out of my element? What do you think my element is?"

"You're Fox Mulder, aren't you?"

So she did know of him. Interesting. "I am."

"I didn't think your kind dealt in my field of expertise."

"My kind?"

"You're VCU, right?" she queried, her mischievous grin widening.

Mulder seemed puzzled. "You have me at a disadvantage, Agent…?"

"Fowley. Diana Fowley. Domestic Intelligence."

It was Mulder's turn to grin. "And _I'm_ out of my element?"

"What is your field of expertise?" Fowley responded to his claim.

"Psychology."

"So you're on my home turf, Agent. My specialty is parapsychology."

That got Mulder's curiosity piqued. "Seriously?"

Diana grinned.

Mulder's heart beat faster. This agent could be just the breakthrough he required for his current case. "Is there some place we can go to talk around here?"

Fowley was now all smiles. "Certainly. Follow me."

He collected his case notes and books and dashed behind her. As he reached her, he explained his needs. "It's about this case I'm working on."

"Oh?"

"My current theory is that the murderer might either deal with parapsychology professionally or has encountered the field on some level."

As he progressed deeper into the case details, he followed Diana through the building, until they ended at a tiny kitchenette, with a tiny desk converted into a dining table, complete with checkered table cloth and salt and pepper shakers in its center. The two chairs by the table came from the Quantico Academy. They were obviously older models, not in use anymore. They now served their remaining lives as dining hall tables. Well, a makeshift dining hall, at most.

It didn't really matter much to Mulder. He pulled one of the chairs and absentmindedly plummeted into it, all the while grilling Diana further about her field of expertise. Her insights were of far greater value than any of the books he'd read on the subject so far. He felt a breakthrough in his case looming just around the corner. He also felt a friendship forming between him and the older female agent. When they parted ways, he knew he'd find his way back to this kitchenette in the very near future.

He called her the next day. He wanted her as an expert for his case. They began working together, and at some point the conversation switched from work to a more personal nature. He didn't really notice it at first. In the beginning it mostly revolved around trivial stuff like food preferences and choice of clothes, then University days, other fields of interest, and at some point he felt comfortable enough to speak about himself, about his feelings and thoughts. He opened up to her and she embraced him and listened, and comforted him when he broke down into sobs. By then they were having full time sex. She was his lover, friend and the mother he had lost.

Their connection did him good and it was only natural that when he discovered the X-Files, that it was Diana who joined him as he was consumed with fascination with the unexplained cases. She was the perfect partner. She knew why he was so drawn to the X-Files and she also specialized in a field that had a connection to the unexplained. Add to that their sexual connection and they were inseparable. He thought it would never end. He saw a bright future for the two of them, especially once they were officially assigned to the X-Files.

He didn't really notice that something was wrong. Despite being extremely talented in reading people, he had a blind spot when it came to Diana. He needed her presence. It was almost as if he were addicted to her. He'd take her in any condition. In any mood. That, combined with his growing obsession with the X-Files made him completely unaware that something was off with Diana.

When she told him she was leaving for a position in Europe he was taken by surprise. It was so sudden. She didn't even give him a chance to say goodbye. She called him as she was sitting on the plane, minutes before it took off.

The feelings of abandonment he'd nurtured ever since Samantha was abducted came back with full force. If he were bitter and misanthropic prior to meeting Diana, those characteristics were now fully enhanced. The only thing that kept him on track were the X-Files and his determination to get to the bottom of his sister's disappearance. He tried to wipe Diana out of his mind and it seemed Diana was trying to do the same in his regard. She never told him where she was going. She disconnected her phone and she never called him. It was like she, too, had vanished off the face of the Earth, and as far as Mulder was concerned, he wished she did indeed disappear. He was hurting so badly. He sometimes had thoughts about taking pills like his mother, maybe drinking himself to a stupor like his father, but whenever he'd linger down that path, it would always be Sam's face screaming for his help that would keep him from following in his parents' footsteps.

Seeing Diana in that briefing room a few months ago had stirred things in him that he'd thought he'd gotten over. He was feeling so confused. There was a longing for the old days, and then anger for the way things ended, and then there was Scully, and once again he was torn between his feelings. For Scully _and_ for Diana.

The anger and hurt Diana had just exhibited told him that his old flame was still there, deeply hidden behind a complex façade she'd obviously perfected for some time, but why? Why had she become this stranger? "You've changed, Diana."

She didn't answer, but Mulder could tell his accusation was hitting home. He was feeling sorry for her, and yet his gut was telling him to take precautions. He shook his head. Maybe she was under duress. Diana wasn't a bad person. He knew her. He couldn't believe she'd backstab him, even though that was exactly what she did. No. there had to be some logical explanation behind all of this. There had to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**"On The Sideline"**

Chapter Three

"Ma'am?" the disembodied female voice called out. "Hello?" The voice droned on. "Excuse me? Hello? Are you there?"

 _Oh hell!_ Scully zoned back in on the present, as she realized she'd once again found herself in deep reverie during yet another tedious background query. "Yes… I'm here…" she told the lady on the other end of the line, but she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say next. She'd totally lost her line of thought and she felt unable to resume her questioning.

"So, you wanted to know how well I knew Ms. Oakley…"

The woman's words jump-started her memory paths and Scully finally remembered what the questioning was about. "That's correct, Ms.—"

"It's Mrs." The woman corrected her with considerable irritation. "I really need to go get my son from little league, Agent…"

"…Scully."

"Yes. So are we done?"

Scully skimmed through the notes she'd collected from the conversation and sighed as she realized she'd hardly written a word, but the impatience the woman was expressing meant that for now she'd have to cut the conversation short. "I guess we're done for now, Mrs. …." She looked at her notes, searching for the woman's sir name, "Mrs. Lewis. If something will come up, we might contact you again. Thanks for taking the time to answer our questions—"

"Yeah, yeah," the woman muttered and the line went dead.

"Have a good day," Scully articulated to the void in her ears, and then took the headset off, and rearranged the strands of hair that were ruffled in the process.

It was a mute ending to a long, miserable day. It wasn't as if she enjoyed working on these checkups, but at least she usually had Mulder by her side to make things somewhat easier. He'd make her smile with his wise cracks either to her or as he spoke to an unsuspecting citizen. It was far from ideal, but it made things a tad less unbearable.

But today, not only was she left to do this disgraceful work on her own, but to add insult to injury, Mulder had gone on a case, an X-File, not with her, but basically with her arch-nemesis, Diana Fowley, of all people. No matter how mature she was trying to be about it all, the little child within her kept saying: 'It's not fair!' And indeed, it just wasn't, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. The result was a dreadful work outcome, an all-time record for her – the lowest number of questionnaires completed in a single day. Hurray, Dana. Great going!

It was closing time at the office. All around her, agents were finishing their last reports, or putting on their jackets and getting ready to leave. The large open space which was noisy enough during the day, got even noisier as casual chit-chat and bouts of laughter mixed with drawers slamming and the click clacks of heels filled the air. Scully's head was pounding. She held her palms to her temples and gently massaged them, trying to sooth the pain. She wished the cacophonous agents would leave already so she'd have some peace and quiet. They seemed to take their time today for some odd reason. No. Probably their behavior was no different than any other day, only that usually she'd be the first one to get her stuff packed and ready to go and when the clock would strike five, she'd already be punching her card and on her way to the parking lot.

But not today. Today she had a different agenda up her sleeve. For this, she'd have to stay overtime. She'd thought about punching out so that her out-of-the-ordinary extra work hours wouldn't stick out, but then she realized she'd have to log in to the computer systems and this would look even more suspicious if she were to do this on her own time. She won't be slapped on the wrist for putting in some extra hours, but she would be called up for questioning if she'd be accessing FBI computers when she wasn't working.

Still, if she remained at her desk while the others filed out, sooner or later this would grab somebody's attention and prying eyes and questions would be aimed at her. This was something she had to avoid. She had to appear as if she, too, was finished for the day, so she slithered her feet back into her high heels, tidied her desk and got up and donned her jacket. The only thing she didn't touch was her briefcase. It remained tucked in its drawer as Scully shuffled past the bustling line of lingering agents towards the elevator. By the time she'd reached it, some twenty or so agents were already huddled close together, their eyes peering at the numbers of the flights still left till the elevator reached them.

Scully pointedly stared at her watch, then gave out a deliberately loud huff and muttered. "This is going to take forever. The stairs will be a lot faster." With that, she turned right in the direction of the nearest stairwell, hoping others won't decide to follow her suit. To her great relief, nobody was in such great a hurry, and thus as she slipped through the stairwell doors, it was only silence that followed her and she welcomed it blissfully. Finally some respite from the endless droning her mind had to endure day in and day out. Finally a chance to think.

She wanted to remain in the quiet sanctuary that was the stairwell, but she knew that sooner or later, somebody will use the stairs and if they found her just lingering about, they'd give her odd looks and this will later turn into hallway gossip which will eventually end up on Kersh's desk. This wasn't something she needed right now. She had to stay out of the lime light and so, reluctantly, she slowly headed down two stories, and then exited on the third floor.

It was on this floor that a small library section was housed. It was mostly used to make requests for material to be brought down from the main FBI library. She and Mulder had spent endless hours scanning through microfiche rolls or photocopying articles from various old newspapers and so forth. Mulder was particularly friendly with one of the librarians there. Scully could have sworn the woman's saliva glands became extra active just at the sound of his voice. She found it both amusing and appalling at the same time but at this very moment, she realized the woman's keen interest in her partner would be quite useful to her as she entered the quiet bookshelf-laden hall.

A strong whiff of mold and damp old paper assaulted her nostrils. The strong contrast between the almost hospital-like air the FBI corridors ebbed and the dusty dank library zone was quite overwhelming, especially as it had been quite some time since she'd visited the place. She'd been a frequent flier in this part of the Hoover building while on the X-Files; constantly on the lookout for clues to yet another unsolved mystery.

She smiled wearily as she slowly made her way to the computer section of the library. There were about a dozen or so computers there and right at this moment only two stations were occupied. Scully made her way to a unit furthest from the other two agents hunched against the screens. She needed privacy for the sake of her sanity and just in case she might have to access material she wasn't supposed to.

As she was removing her jacket, she heard muffled footsteps approaching her. She turned around. It was Jenine, the salivating librarian. Scully hurriedly got over the urge to wince, both at her thoughts and at the sight of the woman.

"Agent Scully," Jenine almost whispered. "What a nice surprise. It's been a while."

Scully offered her a somber smile. "Indeed, it has."

"Will Agent Mulder be joining you?"

The woman sure didn't waste time beating about the bush, Scully noted to herself. "No. Agent Mulder is on a field mission…" Scully broke off as she noted the librarian's almost shocked expression.

"Seriously?!—Errr… I mean, that's good to know…" Jenine's attempt to come back from her shocked retort was turning out rather weak.

Scully resisted the urge to roll her eyes and just plodded on through the awkward conversation. "Yes. I'm here to run a background checkup for the case he's on. I'm going to collect some data and then I would like to run it by you, see what I can get my hands on right away, and what will have to be delivered from the main library."

Jenine was still looking rather sheepish as she slowly collected herself. "Sure. No problem. Anything for Agent Muld—anything you need, Agent Scully."

Scully followed Jenine's back with her eyes as she returned to the library's front desk. She winced, then shuddered with disgust. Mulder sure managed to attract her kind, just like flies to honey.

She turned back to her station and plopped into the chair in front of it. With no further interruptions, she fired up the machine, and instead of typing her password, she typed in Mulder's. They always shared passwords, just in case. It wasn't uncommon amongst FBI partners. His latest password was a classic Mulder: _Reticul nsRreal2_. Just typing it in lit her face up. This password was a far cry from her boring _Margaret123456*_. She just wasn't that out of the box type of person; which almost made her wonder how she got along so well with Mulder, being that they were like water and oil most of the time. Well, maybe that was _exactly_ why they got along so well.

The trail of thought made her sigh. Possibly it was just _her_ belief that this was what Mulder needed, when in fact, he still yearned for his old partner; the one who didn't argue with him every step of the way; the one he'd clearly had more than just a work relationship with; the one he was currently with on a field mission.

She was annoyed by the mere fact that this bothered her so much. After all, what exactly _was_ she to Mulder? She was his partner, he cared for her and she cared for him deeply. If something terrible were to happen to her, he'd be going berserk to fix her, save her, get to her, and vice versa, and yet, they'd never really professed to loving one another, they'd never really held hands in that girlfriend/boyfriend sort of way, never really kissed and of course, they'd had nothing even remotely resembling sex, so what was she to him? She was just his work wife and he was her work husband. That's all they truly were.

At least on the surface.

Maybe they didn't say it out loud. Maybe they didn't hug or kiss… or even hold hands, but almost every evening, he'd call her, or she'd call him, maybe even a couple of times or more. Sometimes they'd discuss work, but mostly it was just for the fun of it. They'd be able to talk about just anything and never really tire: Movies, TV shows, food, clothes, politics… you name it, and they'd talk about it. She couldn't imagine anybody else she'd like to have these conversations with. And it wasn't just conversations. Every week or two she'd be hopping by his apartment, and they'd sit over some takeaway and watch a rented movie together. She'd dose off after a while, and sometime later she'd wake up and find herself covered in a throw, snuggled against him. He'd of course be wide awake, grinning at her as she'd drowsily lift her head from his shoulder once again leaving a tiny stain of drool. Then there were the evenings she'd join him for a visit at the Lone Gunmen's lair where she'd sit leisurely, sipping a beer as she enjoyed the silly chatter he'd have with his three buddies.

And then there was that one moment when she was about to let him go, just before that damned bee had stung her. That one moment when she was certain it was all over for them, both from the professional aspect and the personal one. It wasn't just the fact that the X-Files and all they had put into them had gone down the drain, but her memories of how Mulder's face lit up when he saw Diana again after so long and how it became very clear to her that his relationship with his former partner was nothing like the one they both had. She realized for the first time in five years that it was just so hopeless and pointless and she was willing to give it all up. She couldn't even look him in the eyes for fear she'd not be able to control herself as she told him it was time for her to move on, because she didn't want to, and the only thing that made her actually say those words to him was her darned logic and she couldn't let her emotions control the conversation. She couldn't. But his words to her… she could still recall them so clear and vivid in her mind: " _You saved me."_ As he spoke she found herself staring at his chest as she lost the control she tried so hard to hold on to and the tears welled up in her eyes, and she realized she couldn't leave him, but then what happened after their embrace… at first, just like always, she kissed him on his forehead, as if she were his mother. Despite everything she felt for him, her insecurities about his side of things prevented her from acting upon her actual feelings. But then, when she pulled back and he looked into her eyes, it was then that she saw it and then that she also felt it, as he cupped her face and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb, and inside her butterflies fluttered and she was wondering to herself… could it be? Was he actually going to… kiss her? And YES! It wasn't her initiation and it wasn't a light peck on the neck that she was about to receive as he positioned her face to the side and pulled her lips close to his… If not for that blasted bee…

Somehow the subject of their 'almost-kiss' was never again mentioned, neither by her or by Mulder and the further they got from that moment, she felt less and less sure about where their relationship stood. Things were just so different, in so many ways. First and foremost, they were bound from the X-Files and put under the impossible A.D. Kersh. Instead of them, it was Diana and Spender who were running their former unit and they were doing everything they could to destroy the long-amassed work she and Mulder had achieved during their five years of working together. And Mulder? He was a lost soul. He tried to keep to his defiant, I-don't-give-a-crap, façade of his but she knew how broken he was inside and how much strength he needed to bring himself to work every day when all he got to do was scut work. And as for them? Was there ever a 'them' in the first place? One minute he is about to devour her with his lips and the next they almost die for this cause and for what?

To approach him now and ask him if there was more to this relationship than just the fact that they'd almost died as they tried to save each other that still held them together… Just the thought of this made her cringe inside. It felt so detached and so out of place and even though she wished she could pick things up from that point, she just didn't know how and she didn't even know if Mulder was still there, and if he'd want this. And the more she kept going back to the moment, the more she kept asking herself if all he really wanted was to keep her beside him for his cause and if that 'almost-kiss' of his was only meant to serve that purpose and nothing more. That thought stung her even more than that blasted bee and it scared her so much to think that this was all that it was. If she came to him and spoke of her feelings, will he respond in kind or will he burst her bubble? And if she left things as they were will they be OK in the end, or will this send a message to Diana that Mulder was back on the market and up for grabs? Will Mulder take her passive reaction as a sign to move on? Can she compete with Diana the sex Goddess?

"Agent Scully?"

Scully almost jumped out of her seat.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you like this." It was Jenine again. "It's just that… Are you OK?"

Scully was confused by the librarian's question. "OK?"

Jenine's lips quirked. "Are you?" She asked, her body stature sending a message of awkwardness.

It was then that Scully noted the tears that had begun forming in the corners of her eyes. She'd been so deep in thought, she didn't even notice she'd let go of her façade. She felt embarrassed.

Knowing Jenine, her little digression would not go quietly into the night. Unfortunately she couldn't do much about what the woman had seen. She took in a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face and spoke. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just remembered a good friend who'd died recently," she lied, something she was gradually getting too good at.

"Oh. So sorry," Jenine mouthed, seeming genuinely concerned.

Scully gave her a grateful smile and the woman left her on her own. Scully silently thanked her for the interruption. The dark line of thought she was having was serving no good purpose. All day long she'd been unable to fully carry her work load and even though what she'd planned on working on in the library was of her own free volition, even here the grim notions were getting in her way.

Well, no more!

She straightened herself up, pulled her chair in and dug into the case file contents. After a five minute search through the material, Scully felt puzzled. Something was definitely not right with this case.

* * *

\- Justville, NY-

Mulder's phone rattled in his jacket. He slid his hand into the inside pocket, retrieved it and then peered into its screen. It was a message from Scully. It read _'Are you alone?'_

Diana had just gone to settle their sleeping arrangements so he texted an affirmative response to her and the next moment the device rang. He clicked the receive button. "Missed me?" he joked as an answer.

"Mulder," Scully didn't sound like she had registered his light tone. Instead, it was clear that something was wrong.

"Scully? Everything OK?"

"Mulder, I hope you don't mind, but I figured you could use some help with background on your case, so I looked it up and well, things about it don't seem quite in order."

Mulder sucked in a breath of air. For some unknown reason, he felt irritated just by the fact that Scully was butting in on his case. It wasn't a rational thought, but he figured that it would have been nice if she'd offered to help before going ahead and doing it. The irony was, if things were reversed, he'd do just that, yet, he seemed to expect a different standard from Scully. "What exactly _did_ you find out of order?" he queried. Despite himself, his tone came out cold, almost on the verge of condescending.

Scully obviously noted his disapproving voice, for she seemed to pause before responding and her own tone now sounded strained. "This case is basically almost void of information. It's as if aside from the dry facts, nobody had been done any investigative work whatsoever, aside from the local police department, that is."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Why don't you tell me something I _don't_ know, Scully. I'd already told Diana off. You know how they BS their way through an X-File nowadays; they get a file, open it, read the title, then file it and go back to playing solitaire. Nothin' new here. In fact, this is the best the X-Files have had lately. Somebody _actually_ going out of their way to investigate. I know it's a far cry from OK, but hey, nothing out of the ordinary here."

"Try getting off of that high horse of yours, Mulder," Scully berated him. If she was trying to hold back her anger at his condescending attitude before, she'd obviously gotten over it. "I'd assume you'd be able to give me a little more credit than this by now," she continued. "I know what type of 'work' has been going on, on the X-Files lately. I didn't have any high expectations here. It's not that."

"Then what is it?" He turned his negative attitude down a notch.

"It's what's been done in the other departments in regard to this case, or, better put, what _hasn't_ been done."

"What exactly are you referring to, Scully?" He had a clue, but he wanted her confirmation.

He heard her taking in a deep breath, as if preparing for a speech. "There's usually one of two ways a case ends up as an X-File. The first way – the case is so bizarre and so out there, nobody wants to touch it and it is sent directly down to the basement without collecting the 200 bucks. There's another flavor to this method which you'd created, i.e., search the tabloids for something extraordinaire and turn it into an X-File." She paused, inhaled and then continued. "The second common way for a case to reach the basement is through the usual channels. A case is investigated by local law enforcement until it is deemed federal, thus it will be handled by one or more of the traditional FBI divisions: Violent Crime, Counterterrorism, Homeland Security and so forth. Only when the case is believed to be unsolvable it is re-christened as an X-File. These cases don't have an outlandish feel at first glance and thus obviously won't get directly to the X-Files unit." Scully paused once more, obviously now getting ready for the final blow. " _This_ case, Mulder, should fall under the second category, which means there should have been a pile of info gathered from the other bureau divisions, but the case file is practically empty. I believe it wasn't handed to the other departments. I think it was given directly to the X-Files team, and—"

"There's a third option." Mulder cut into her speech.

"I know," Scully said quietly.

"I went to investigate cases based on tips given to me by interested parties. I was given those tips so I could unveil the truth, but—"

"I doubt Diana's informants belong to the same party yours did, Mulder, and if somebody went out of their way to make sure this case was given directly to the X-Files, I have to presume there's more to this case than just the X-File."

Mulder bit his lower lip. Scully was probably right but there wasn't much proof for what she had just said. "Look, for now I am not going to approach Diana on the subject. I'll keep an eye for anything out of the ordinary and once I'm fully convinced of her intents, then I'll do something about it."

"Fully convinced?" Scully was bewildered. "It's one thing not to call Diana on her bluff because you don't believe you have enough proof, but if by now you are still not fully convinced Diana isn't on our side Mulder, I truly don't know _what_ will convince you."

"Scully, I don't want to argue with you about this. It's obvious you are not very objective where Diana is concerned—"

"Oh, and _you_ are?!"

He sighed. "Never mind. I really have to go now. Diana's going to be back any minute."

"Fine, Mulder," Scully uttered bitterly. "But just so you won't say I didn't tell you so, I _am_ going to continue my investigation into this case."

"Fine. Whatever," he replied despondently and cut the conversation before she could respond.

Mulder was still trying to come to terms with what had just transpired during his talk with Scully, with the information she'd given him and with how badly the conversation had ended, when Diana abruptly opened the car door. A gust of freezing air assaulted him and shocked him out of his miserable reverie.

"Fox, get your stuff. We need to get going. Sergeant Dan Mathews is waiting for us at the Sherriff's office. I promised we'd meet him in fifteen minutes."

He blinked at her, as if it were the very first time he'd ever seen her, then his mind came down to earth and he sprang into action. Well, springing wasn't quite what he'd call it, as his joints felt stiff from the long journey and the cold winter weather wasn't helping, but he got out of the car, headed for the trunk, grabbed his overnight bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"What's my room number?" he called out to Diana.

"It's _our_ room number, Fox. I've got the key," she shot back at him.

He thought he must've heard her wrong. " _Our_ room?"

"The place is fully booked. He only had one room to spare and there aren't any other motels in this town. I had to make do with what he had. I'm sorry." Diana explained, albeit not sounding at all as sorry as she should have, at least not to his ears.

Mulder looked around. The motel looked practically deserted. "For a fully booked motel, it sure looks empty," he pointed out.

"Oh, it's because the guests haven't arrived yet. They'll be here in two days, though. Some major gardening conference or something—"

"In two days?" Mulder gave her a dubious stare. "So there _are_ free rooms available right now?"

"Of course they have rooms right now, but we needed to book a room for at least a week and he'd rather not have to transfer us in two days' time, so he gave us the only one he still had available. I believe he called it _'The Honeymoon Suite'_ , but I doubt it will even remotely resemble one." Diana explained almost matter-of-factly.

Mulder shook his head in disbelief. If he didn't know any better it would seem as if Diana was doing everything in her power to get back into his pants and that was most definitely _not_ on his list. She sure was hard for him to ignore, though. That perfume of hers, the same one she used to put on back in the day, when they were an item. It drove him nuts, as if it were made of pheromones or something. It conjured powerful memories in him, of his sweat mixing with its odor as they tumbled through her bedroom sheets for the umpteenth time. He had no doubt she knew how she affected him and she was using her weapons wisely. He had to work hard on his defenses if he were to get over her and resist her countless attempts to tempt him.

He trudged behind Diana as she strode past the motel's rooms, searching for theirs. It was the last one on the row. While all the other motel doors bore a plain dark blue shade, this particular door had a huge bright pink heart painted on it. Mulder almost choked at its sight. Absentmindedly his hand found its way to his forehead. He held it there and eyed the tacky-looking heart on the door nervously, wondering what other surprises loomed behind it.

Diana seemed oblivious to the door's outstanding characteristics. She produced the room's key and hurriedly opened it. "I think we should just leave our stuff here and get going. We can get settled when we finish for the day."

Mulder followed Diana inside and winced with disgust. The entire space of the rather tiny room had been filled with a king-sized bed, covered with a pink bed spread, and a bunch of heart-shaped pillows of varying sizes. On the wall above the bed the motel owners chose to place a huge cheap copy of a painting that consisted of a couple walking along a beach at sunset. As a final touch, two large vases were placed on the respective sides of the bed, each containing a huge bouquet of plastic red roses. Mulder wanted to vomit. The entire room was a collection of cheap, tasteless clichés. What was worse, he'd hoped to ask for an extra cot to be put in the room so at least they'd sleep separately. Alas, the bed was humongous. There was hardly any space left for them to move. An extra cot was out of the question. The only solution would be for him to sleep on what little floor remained in the room. He sighed, feeling extremely weary at that very moment.

Mulder landed his bag on the bed, all the while demolishing the pile of the neatly organized pillows. He then turned around and got out. Diana followed him out and locked the room. "The place looks rather cozy, don't you think?"

"I didn't really notice," Mulder muttered as he hurried for the car.

"When we get back, I'll get us some hot chocolate. Seems just the right thing to have on a day like this," Diana continued, clearly ignoring Mulder's despondency.

"I don't drink hot chocolate," he lied to her as he got into their car.

Diana took her place at the driver's seat and started the car engine. They drove to the sheriff's office in silence.

* * *

\- Sheriff's Office, Justville, NY-

"Wait a minute, which section of the FBI did you say you were from?" Sergeant Dan Mathews eyebrows furrowed as he stared Mulder in the eye, which wasn't too hard for him, given they were about the same height.

"We're from the X-Files department," Diana repeated.

That was one of the things Mulder didn't miss about working in the X-Files – the incredulous comments. Sure, he always had a good retort and maybe to the outsider it seemed as if he didn't give a crap, but he sure did. The FBI chose to have such a department and the FBI was a serious place, so why weren't they taken seriously?

"What exactly do you do in that department?" Mathews continued with his twenty one questions.

Mulder wasn't in the mood for the usual song and dance. He was freezing cold and he wanted to get down to business. "Listen Sergeant," he spat out, "Do you want us to check out these incidents or not?"

Dan Mathews' brows switched from furrow to glare as he opened his mouth to speak.

Mulder braced himself for the impact but Diana cut in. "Sergeant, I assure you that no matter what department we are from, we will do our best to get to the bottom of this."

"You better do that Agent…" the Sergeant stopped mid-sentence, his palm now rubbing his chin as his left eye squinted and his lips pursed. "What was your name again?"

"Diana—"

"Wait, didn't you just call me half an hour ago?"

Mulder turned to face Diana, waiting for her answer. To his surprise, she seemed taken aback.

"Who? Me? No. It definitely wasn't me." Fowley almost blabbered.

The Sergeant strode back to his desk and picked a pink memo marred with scribbles. "This isn't you, then? Agent Diana Scully?" he read from the tiny note.

Diana's expression went from discomfort to anger to a fully-fledged poker-face in mere milliseconds but nothing was lost on Mulder who was watching her like a hawk.

"Her name is _Dana_ _Scully_. My name is _Diana_ _Fowley_ —"

"Dana – Diana, Potato – Potah-to, whatever. Makes no difference to me," The Sergeant shrugged as he plopped back into his chair behind the desk. "To me all you Feds are alike. I sure didn't ask for your involvement and I sure don't see why you need to get involved in this case in the first place. We still haven't finished our internal investigation."

Mulder gave Diana a peeved glare. He was furious. She'd kept him in the dark about this anything-but-minor detail. They were crashing a party and it would have been nice to know ahead of time. Now he was deep in Diana's shit; a case he hardly had any intel on and a local Sheriff's department unaware of their visit and not too happy to lend a hand and all of this for what? And why did she choose to take him on this assignment? What good will it do to have him here? She obviously had some ulterior motive but he was at a loss as to what it was.

Diana offered the Sergeant a cold smile as she countered his attack. "Sergeant Mathews, for reasons I do not need to explain to you, we are required to investigate these incidents, and while you may choose not to cooperate with us as it is your right, let it be known that this won't prevent us from doing our job. If we are forced to do things on our own, I guess I will not need to provide you with any important findings I might come across during our investigation. If you are OK with that, so be it, but I believe you might find that your cooperation might benefit you a great deal."

Mulder was impressed despite himself. He searched his memory; was Diana always such a bitch? And the beauty of it was that Diana was such a talented manipulator that she was able to be menacing without sounding as such. She was basically telling this bastard off but she said it with such a lilt, it felt as if she was actually singing his praises. Mulder hated that he admired this talent of his current partner, but he couldn't not appreciate it.

And it did the trick; the Sergeant who just a minute ago had been ready to send them off with a kick on their butts was now on the verge of groveling at Diana's feet. "I guess it couldn't hurt to have another set of investigators on the case, after all, we are all on the same side." Dan Mathews conceded.

"I thought you'd see things this way," Diana hurried to respond, almost as if she was worried he'd change his mind with every second that passed. "I assure you this investigation will be over in no time with our combined efforts."

Mulder tried hard to keep his expression from turning into a grimace. Diana was such a sly politician, she should have run for congress and not come back as a lowly agent.

"What about this other agent that called, this Agent Scully? Is she a part of your team?" the sergeant added all of a sudden.

"Yes. Yes she is," Mulder blurted, knowing he'd caught Diana off guard for she grabbed his arm and squeezed it as she turned and gave him a disapproving look. He offered her a sheepish grin in response. "Scully is doing background research for this case. Please make sure she is provided with all the information she requires," Mulder continued as he ignored Diana's continued piercing glare.

"No problem," Mathews agreed, as if there had never been any argument on the subject before.

"Great," Mulder said as he caught Diana's hand and gently released himself from her grip. "If you wouldn't mind handing over all the files you have related to these incidents so my partner and I could review them and decide on a course of action, it would be mighty kind of you."

Like a child eager to comply, the Sergeant jumped up and strode over to an adjoining office. "Walk this way, Agents."

Mulder followed with Diana close behind. The room they had just entered was occupied by numerous shelves just about ready to collapse under a ridiculous amount of paperwork stacked on them; cardboard boxes piled one on top of the other filled beyond their rim and large folders exploding with documents. The shelves were so engorged with material that the overspill found its place on whatever remained of the space on the floor.

"'bout time you got yourself a new filing system, don't you think?" Mulder asked the Sergeant.

"Would you believe me, if I'd tell you that about six or so months ago, this room was practically empty?"

"All of this is due to the incidents we are currently investigating?" Diana interjected, sounding uncharacteristically surprised.

"Sergeant, could you give us a place where we can sit at and go over all of this material?" Mulder asked.

"Sure thing; you can sit at the Sherriff's desk. He's away on personal business this week and there's plenty of space there."

Mulder thanked the lanky Sergeant as the man left them alone in the shelf-filled room. He sighed as he took in the endless boxes and folders. "I don't think this Sherriff's office expected to have this much work on their hands, or they'd have had a bigger staff to handle this mess."

"Fox, I think we need to divide the workload between the two of us," Diana told him.

Mulder turned around abruptly and sent Diana a piercing glare. "What do you mean? "

"I just figured it would be a total waste of time if we both did the same thing." She tried to explain.

"Diana? You must be kidding me! If we both sat down on this mess, we'd be out of here a lot quicker than if I did this on my own." His patience was wearing thin.

"I was thinking I could get a head start with the interviews, especially of those that we have to do out of this town. I understand there are some teachers from that school where most of the incidents occurred that aren't local to Justville, it would be a waste of good time if we both drove out there, don't you think?"

Mulder's gut was starting to turn on itself. Diana was obviously up to something. Her reasoning was so lame, it was downright shameful. "I don't see your point, and to be honest, I'm kind of tired of this whole charade. As far as I understand, the best way to get this case going is if we _both_ got this research done with before the interviews. If you would have done the research prior to our arrival then I'd agree that we could have each run the interviews separately but right now what you are asking for is absurd to say the least."

"Look Fox, maybe you could manage Agent Scully in this manner when you ran the X-Files, but let me remind you that you are merely a guest investigator on this case, and for now I call the shots, and this is how things are going to be whether you like it or not."

Mulder shot her a menacing glare, wishing he could actually stab her with his eyes. He was once again amazed at how quickly Diana was able to pull the bitch out of her hat and how skillful a bitch she was. There wasn't much else he could say so he just turned his back on her and trudged to the nearest shelf. As he grabbed hold on the first-out-of-many boxes he was about to explore, he heard Diana's footsteps retreat into the distance until he heard the Sherriff's office entrance door being pulled open, then slamming shut behind her. With deep resignation, he hefted the fully-loaded box of documents to the Sherriff's desk, plopped unceremoniously into the Sherriff's chair and began the tedious task of making some sense out of the Justville case.

* * *

\- Starbucks, Binghamton, NY-

Benjamin Seymour checked his watch for the umpteenth time. He'd been sitting, gnawing at his smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel for over an hour and he was past the antsy stage. His contact was late and he hated tardiness. Alas, he couldn't just get up and leave. The top brass insisted they'd meet and he couldn't risk their dissatisfaction. That sort of thing could have some serious ramifications on his life, and he really liked living, especially since he got paid so well to do so little. So he heaved a deep sigh and tore a nice chunk of bagel and stuck it in his mouth and waited some more.

Every time the coffee shop door swished open, he gave it a semi-glance to see who came in. Of course, he hadn't a clue what his contact would look like. He didn't even know if it were a he or a she. This sort of information was usually kept in the shadows. What's more, he knew that once he'd met this person, there was slight chance he'd see him or her again. He'd probably have to move to a different location, possibly even a different continent. He'd heard of people being transferred as far as Australia and even Morocco by the syndicate, even though he hadn't a damned clue what they could possibly be doing over there, but he dared not ask. Asking was not part of the job description. Saying 'Yes' was, and he just did what was requested no more no less.

He peered outside the window at Binghamton's darkening main street. The snow assumed a bluish-gray hue as dusk gave way to the darkness of evening. The street was starting to fill up with pedestrians and cars as people finished their daily work and were either rushing home or checking out the various shops along the way. The coffee shop was also gradually filling up with the weary post work crowd needing their end-of-the-day cup of Joe, and Benjamin was beginning to wonder how much longer he'd have to wait until he could call it a day. It was his first assignment as a contact. Usually his job mostly consisted of errands. He'd have a typed note left in his mailbox or he'd receive an anonymous text and he'd go bring item A to location B and so forth. He never had to wait. He would usually get things done immediately and then he'd go back to his comfy life until the next errand. Sometimes it would be months until he was contacted again. He'd be enjoying himself, living the most luxurious of lives in between and he was quite content. He didn't know what he was delivering, nor did he care. Even now all he was supposed to do was give this contact an unmarked cell. He was supposed to wait till she or he finished the conversation and then destroy it. That was all he had to do. His higher brain functions were not required and this kept him safe and happy and he was going to make sure he stayed that way.

The coffee shop door swished open once more and in came a woman. Benjamin knew right away that it was her. She wore a beige colored knitted hat over her head and aside from a few dark strands, she made sure her hair was completely concealed. She also wore dark shades that were very much out of place on a dreary wintery evening. She didn't take them off even after she entered and that was the final giveaway as far as Benjamin was concerned. Of course, the rest of the coffee shop patrons hadn't a clue. Worst case they would have thought her odd, definitely not clandestine.

The woman approached the counter and ordered a large cappuccino and once her order had arrived, she picked it up and walked slowly down the aisle. Once she'd reached Benjamin's table she gracefully sat opposite him and offered a slight nod as if to confirm she was indeed who she was. As he was instructed, he waited for her to initiate conversation. She didn't waste much time as she opened with the pre-defined coded message. "The smoked salmon any good?"

"I've had better," he replied with the expected response.

She nodded acknowledgement and then continued with casual conversation about her preferred Starbucks' sandwiches. As he was conversing with her, he casually retrieved a cellphone out of his bag. He pressed the second speed dial number and handed it to the woman under the table. In response she grabbed the device and looked down at her bag while muttering apologies about having to answer the urgent call.

As the woman spoke, Benjamin wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to leave or remain seated. He still hadn't completed his mission, and yet, he felt uncomfortable about being privy to the woman's conversation. She was talking in a very low tone yet he was sitting too close to her and he couldn't avoid hearing what she was saying.

"Yes, sir," the woman said, "We have arrived."

"No. Agent Mulder isn't aware of my mission, but he is somewhat suspicious." She paused as the person on the other side of the line spoke. "The reason for taking him with me? He's one of the brightest agents out there. I am lucky I can use his skills." Another pause. "You can trust me, sir. I will make sure he remains in the dark, and besides, we will clean up the area so he won't have any proof like we always do." More chatter from the party on the other side. "I will find the source. Don't worry, sir. I won't fail you."

The woman clicked on the disconnect button and made it appear as if she were shoving the phone back into her bag, but instead she proffered it back and Benjamin quickly retrieved it.

Some five minutes later, she got up and bid him a good evening. Benjamin was glad to see her go. He had heard a lot more than he'd planned to and he didn't like it one bit. He quickly got up and hurried out of the coffee shop and into the now bustling main street. As he strode briskly towards the parking lot, tiny flakes of snow began to fall. He remembered the forecast for the night. They'd expected strong winds and probably about five inches of snow by morning. He wanted out of this God forsaken town. He was looking forward to a nice soak in his sauna once he got home.

His only remaining mission was the destruction of the phone. He was planning on tossing it into the fireplace in his living room and then he was going to try to forget about the woman and the conversation he'd overheard.

His Jeep was parked at the farthest corner of the parking lot. He picked up his pace as the wind began to kick in and the snow thickened. He wanted to drive away before it became impossible. He turned the car's alarm off, opened the door and shoved himself inside, as soon as his door was shut he turned the ignition switch and a large explosion sounded in his ears and he felt himself being torn to bits.


End file.
